Yipee Kay Yay

 

 

In the year 1988, when at least someone reading this post was still gestating in a belly, and a number of you were not permitted to watch PG 13 movies anyway, a film came out that ended an era.

This movie, Die Hard, was the first time I had ever seen an action hero who actually, honestly, realistically looked like he could lose. The odds were stacked against him, unlike the case with Superman or He Man. He didn’t even have a talking car or Mr T on his side.

The man didn’t even have shoes.

And yet, somehow he managed to defeat a building full of terrorists using nothing but his wits and his wisecracks. Wit and wisecracks vs an army of terrorists? The whole thing was so implausible that when he finally got it done it was all the more awesome. I looked at this with my little black African eyes and knew that I would love this man for the rest of my life.

Even after Die Hard With A Vengance, which was kind-of phoned in.

Detective John McLane pretty much does the same thing in every Die Hard movie. He smokes cigarettes, grunts, makes bad jokes and then, after getting all bruised up and battered, wins.  What more could we ask for?

Well, I could ask for Halle Berry instead of Reginald VelJohnson as the friendly cop character, but that’s if they can spare the time. It’s not a dealbreaker.

This is Veljohnson.

And now, pucho hens together for Mz. Berry.

This is how important Halle Berry is to Hollywood. I have watched Catwoman twice. To the end. And that is one of the worst movies ever made without a Wayans in it.

Halle Berry, or Hallelujah

 

There was a Die Hard movie recently. The fifth, I believe. It was a fount of FOMO. I was frothing at the moth with all the excitement because, not only did A Good Day To Die Hard feature John MacLane, it featured his son Junior, who is a CIA agent. Not one but TWO John McLanes. And they are in Russia, which means villains with Russian accents. That is the absolute best kind of villain that it is possible to film using modern technology.

The only way Megamind could possibly have been a more awesome movie is if he had a Russian accent.

So we go.

We watch.

And well, how can I put this? You know how bad Transformers II was? Well, I sat through it. I gave it a pass. I decided that even though the film was mainly sewerage, the CGI battle at the end was entertaining enough for me to not completely regret the decision to take my bueyes there. This is the same pass I have given to X-Men The Last Stand and to the third Matrix movie, both of which were awful films otherwise.

A Good Day To Die Hard did not even earn that pass. I wanted to stand up in the theatre and shout abuse at Bruce Willis. I wanted him to get up and go and stand in the corner for the rest of the movie.

It was a sad day but I had to admit it to myself, if Bruce Willis will not: John MacLayne is old. He is old the way a joke gets old. He is old in the sense that it’s just not cool any more.

And now they want me to watch GI Joe? Before I watch that, answer me this: Just how short is life?