The Specialist
By Peter John Gardner
The plot synopsis on the back of the Netflix sleeve for The Specialist is as follows: "Luis Llosa directs this explosive action vehicle shot on location in Miami. An ex-CIA munitions expert known as "The Specialist" (Sylvester Stallone) meets a determined beauty (Sharon Stone) seeking revenge against the mob family (Rod Steiger, Eric Roberts) who killed her parents. When the two join forces, it's twice the TNT. The (literally) steamy Stallone/Stone shower scene is a classic of 1990s cinematic erotica."
Because of that last line, this movie sat on my coffee table for a week and a half. When I finally worked up enough nerve to watch it, I found that the dvd was cracked, and I had to order another from Netflix. I still don't believe in god, but I do think that something out there didn't want me to see this movie, and for good reason.
I could detail the plot for you, but the Netflix synopsis pretty much sums it up. It's another Stallone movie filled with bad one-liners, plot holes big enough to swan dive into, and a bunch of random shit blowing up. The only thing that sticks in one's mind after watching The Specialist is the friggin' awkward sex scene between Stallone and Stone's characters (Wait...Stallone/Stone. That rhymes! Why didn't the ad execs run with that for the marketing campaign?).
I think that Sharon Stone was the first exposure to the female anatomy for a lot of guys my age. Basic Instinct and this film came out during the puberty years for guys that are now in their mid-to-late twenties. She was still hot in this movie, so no awkwardness there. It's Stallone that's the problem. The Party at Kitty and Stud's was more than enough Stallone sex that I needed to see, and fuck Luis Llosa for making a film that has more. I've lost track of how many times I've seen Stallone's ass over the course of Project Stallone.
Watching the shower sex scene is kinda like accidentally walking in on two of your friends having sex. Sure, one or both may be attractive, but the initial reaction is usually, "Whoa!" followed by "AHHHH!" and a slammed door. Just because someone's your friend doesn't mean you want to have the mental image of them doing the cha-cha stuck in your memory.
Does this all mean that I consider Stallone to be a friend? Well, despite the fact that I've seen more of him over the past year than some of my real friends, the answer is still a resounding no.
