Project Stallone: "Rambo III"

Rambo III
By Peter John Gardner

Let me just say right off the bat that I'm going to get somewhat off track on this one because as far as Rambo III is concerned, there's nothing more I can add besides some more Cold War commentary that I've already covered in Rambo: First Blood Part II and Rocky IV (these films are classy because they use Roman numerals).

Rambo III seems to forget that it should actually be called First Blood Part III but who's keeping track? Anyway, it takes its cue more from the second film than the first, which means instead of exploring the effects of PTSD on a Vietnam Vet (which would've made a far more interesting film), we get another movie with Rambo planted in the middle of a foreign country and ordered to blow things up, which he does a lot. The plot itself finds Rambo on a mission to rescue his former commanding officer who happens to be in Afghanistan being held captive by those pesky Russians.

It's easy to see the parallels between the film's depiction of the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan during the 80s and America's occupation of Afghanistan and Iraq in the 00s. Yes, America provided Afghani rebels (see they're not terrorists unless they're against us) with aid and arms to fight the Russians. Yes, Afghanistan ended up using those very same resources on us when we went in there after 9/11 on our "BIN LADEN: WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE" mission.

By the way, weren't we supposed to catch that guy? What happened with that?

I don't want to go on an anti war rant because most of us are all on the same page about Iraq now. There are those such as myself that were against it from the beginning, those that are against it now for the right reasons, and those that are against it simply because we're not "winning" (wrong reasons, but at least they're on our team now). Yeah, our administration purposely misled the public (sidenote: Kudos to Kucinich for finally having the cajones to file an impeachment against Cheney). Yeah, Iraq is starting to look like Vietnam. Yeah, we're about to do the same thing with Iran. We all know.

What I'd like to address here is the apathy that I've gained towards politics over the years. 2000 was the first election that I was eligible to vote in, and hot damn, I was excited. It was Bush vs. Gore, and I remember the general feeling that Gore was going to win. Bush was not qualified enough, he seemed kind of...dumb, and Gore was coming off as vice-president during one of the best presidencies of the twentieth century (Argue all you want about Clinton. It's true.) So, I voted for Nader that election. In hindsight, it was a very foolish choice, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was certain that Gore would win, so I was in the camp of people that wanted Nader to get enough votes so that a third party would receive federal funding during the next election and Americans would be able to have more palpable third party choices for the presidency.

We all know how that one turned out.

2004, I was fed up with everything about the Bush administration, as was half of America (or at least ones that read the newspapers). Bush stole the first election, proved himself to be a downright inept leader, and made Reagan look like Steven Hawking. At this time, I was at UCF and election fever was unavoidable. I joined in, thinking that I could make a difference. I helped register people to vote. I handed out information regarding why Bush was a failure. In the end, it didn't matter. The morning after the election, I lost my faith not only in the American people, but also my ability to make a difference in politics as well.

No matter how much concrete facts and information people had, they still voted for Bush. "He's going to end terrorism!" Sure, he's also going to end racism too. Just watch. Not only that, but so much sketchy stuff happened in Ohio and Florida that day that I believe the election would've gone to Captain Asshole regardless of the actual results of the election.

Here we are now with the 2008 elections right around the corner. Save for Ron Paul, all of the Republican candidates, while more articulate, are just as sketchy and misguided as Bush. The Democrats seem to be more concerned with slinging mud at each other instead of dismantling any chance the Republicans would have to keep the White House. I've got my favorite, John Edwards, but as it stands now, I highly doubt that he'll get the nomination.

Even still, I'm finding it harder to care. Does my vote make a difference if the teams are going to play dirty and rig the results? Why should I bother when all the candidates are just making empty promises in order to gain public favor? Why should I care when whoever gets elected is just going to run into a bunch of roadblocks once they get elected due to all of the partisan infighting and instead of making substantial progress with things that need to be addressed (our health care and education system, social security, reducing our deficit, ending the damn war already), and instead just coming up with a series of lame compromises that would appease the two parties in Washington, but not one single American voter.

Holy shit. This was supposed to be about Rambo. Ok, I'll try and tie the two together. Right now, America is in a "Rambo III" phase, where we just blindly go into other countries, wreck things, and expect to be regarded as heroes. Instead, America should be more like "First Blood". We have the capabilities to fuck shit up, but it should only be used when pushed too far. America should be fixing problems within its own borders rather than worrying about what Iran is doing or whatnot.

Or America could be more like "The Party at Kitty and Stud's" where we all look kinda stoned and just enjoy the fruits of life. Wait, that's Amsterdam. Maybe we could just get drunk and play soccer like in "Victory". Oops, that's Ireland.

I'll stop with the stereotypes now.

It's going to be a long jump down from this soapbox.

Project Stallone: "Over the Top"

Over the Top
By Peter John Gardner

Ah, Over the Top. I hadn't seen this movie since I was a kid, and all I could remember about it was that it was about arm wrestling and that Stallone turned his hat backwards for that extra little burst of strength before a match. I thought about handing the reigns of Project Stallone over to a friend of mine for his take on the film just to see if someone else could find a fresh prespective on the same old tired themes that I've been knee deep in for the past year. The movie's about ARM WRESTLING at truck stops. There's not much I can work with there. However, when I rewatched the film myself in order to add any notes to the ghost written entry, I found that Over the Top opened up a whole new can of worms that I could explore...my daddy issues.

Plot in a nutshell: Stallone plays a truck driver named Lincoln Hawk who just so happens to be an awesome arm wrestler. He has a son that he hasn't seen in ten years that has been in his mother's care, but when the mom begins to fall ill, she sends Hawk to pick up their son from military school to be by her side. The kid still hates his dad for leaving until he sees how great of an arm wrestler he is. Yes, father and son bond over ARM WRESTLING in this movie. Anyway, bad guys from Hawk's past get involved, the kid gets kidnapped, Stallone has to win an ARM WRESTLING tournament to win back his son and his love, and everything becomes hunky dory.

My father left me when I was fourteen years old. Growing up, he was both physically and mentally abusive towards my brother and I. The good times with him were few and far between, and my childhood was mostly living in fear of getting the living shit beat out of me for the slightest mistake (Ex: in my house, accidentally breaking the towel rack would earn you a beatdown with said towel rack). When my father left and my parents divorced, I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. I was afraid of him, and now that he was out of the picture, I didn't want him in my life, not until he showed some kind of remorse for the way he treated my brother and I or at least exhibit some kind of personal growth or change.

That never happened. Since I was still a minor, the court ordered me into therapy as collateral for not wanting to see my dad. My dad and I communicated through a third party, and I could see that he was as stubborn as ever. He wanted me in his life, but he wouldn't admit or even acknowledge any wrongdoing. He kept sending me cards for Xmas and my birthday, but I didn't respond. At that age, I didn't know how to in an appropriate way.

It's been twelve years since I've spoken to him, and the cards stopped coming several years ago. Over the Top, god damn it, made me rethink where I stand with my father right now. I wondered what would happen if I were stuck in a semi truck driving cross country with my dad. Granted, he was never the tough guy, truck driver type, but it's been twelve years. He could be a badass arm wrestler now for all I know.

Stallone's character is a flawed individual. Aside from abondoning his son at an early age, he was also a drug pusher back in the day. Still, he is able to re-establish a bond with his son through the power of ARM WRESTLING. Not a perfect father-son bond, but a bond nonetheless.

I'm an adult now. I know my dad is a flawed individual, as am I. Perhaps it's time to tie up a loose end from my childhood. The only wrinkle in that plan is that I have absolutely no idea how to get in contact with him, being as how he's a very private person that never has his name listed in the phonebook. Not only that, but there are about 267,797,257,089,234,230,911 John Gardners in the world. It's hard to find the right one. I don't know if bringing him back into my life would be a positive or negative thing, and it's that fear that he's still thickheaded that holds me back from reaching out. Why bother if he's still going to treat me like shit?

You never know. At the very least, I could just arm wrestle the fucker if nothing else.

Project Stallone: "Cobra"

Cobra
By Peter John Gardner

Little known fact that I swear I'm not making up for the sake of this article: one of my dream jobs as a child was a cop. Any kind of law enforcement interested me as a kid whether it is a detective or member of the SWAT team. Bottom line, I wanted to bust some dirt bags and bring peace and justice to society. My friends and I would gather our Super Soaker water guns and have neighborhood gang wars with two teams as the inner city (well, suburban Texas) gangs, while a core group of three or four would be the cops. I always wanted to be on the cops’ team.

Another dream job of mine when I was a kid (and I still have the 1st grade essay to prove it) was to be a garbage man. Only because I wanted to ride on the back of the truck every morning. Ambitious young lad I was.

Movies like "Cobra" fed into my understanding that being a cop would be an awesome job. The life of a cop was the life of a badass; one that plays by his own rules, carries automatic weapons, tells bad guys awesome lines like, “You’re the disease, and I'm the cure," and fuck Brigitte Nielsen before Flava Flav brought the noise on her.

"Cobra" is every 80s action movie cliché you can think of. Stallone is the badass cop (his license plate even reads AWSME 50); Brigitte Nielsen is the damsel in distress that knows too much. There are murders going on around the city. The cops think it's the work of one man; Cobra knows otherwise and takes matters into his own hands. Stallone and Brigitte get busy with the fizzy. Cobra blows shit up with complete disregard for the paperwork and legal issues that would ensue. You know the drill. You've seen this movie before even if you haven't.

That being said, the world needs movies like this. It's escapist fare, pure and simple, and there will always be a market for movies like this. Society will always have the people that come home from a shitty day at work or school and be taken into a world where renegade cops are the heroes and car chases and explosions are aplenty. Sometimes a person just isn't in the mood for Bergman or Herzog. We have to celebrate the bad movies for they take us to a place where everything is just a tad cooler, even if it's just for ninety minutes, and that little kid inside of you is tickled by the thought that you could've been a cop that doesn't take shit from anyone, like Cobra.

And then you have assholes like me that try to extrapolate these films and find meaning where there is none.

Project Stallone: "Rocky IV"

Rocky IV
By Peter John Gardner

Dear Mr. Sylvester Stallone,

Greetings and my most sincere salutations. My name is Peter, and I have been working on a project of sorts that revolves around your career. Perhaps you may have run across it when Googling your name during a break from filming John Rambo. In a nutshell, what I'm doing is watching each of your movies in chronological order, starting with your memorable performance in the porn flick, "The Party at Kitty and Stud's", and trying to derive some sort of meaning from each one in the hopes that I could find some enlightenment and/or purpose in my life. I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. With all due respect, I am not your biggest fan. Other than the Rocky movies and a few others, I find most of your work painful to sit through. I hope that doesn't insult you, but I'm sure that you realize that films "Rhinestone" are piles of horseshit. The project is a fasting of sorts, or cleansing if you will. I made a pact with myself that if I could get through each movie in your filmography and pull something useful out of it, then I can pretty much do anything. While some entries are stronger than others (a few are obvious rush jobs that I did just to get out of the way so that I could get to a better movie), I think I've done ok with it so far.

Now after watching "Rocky IV" the other night in this new context, I am starting to have some serious concerns about your work and mine. You see, almost every one of your films up to this date has had the overall theme of an underdog overcoming the odds. That's fine. You stick to what works best for you. It's not like anybody chastised Hitchcock for making too many suspense films, and I've been trying to ignore that theme and pull something different out of each movie. What concerns me is that I'm starting to see another thread emerging in your work, and it's not making my life any easier as a writer. "Rocky IV" is the middle chapter in a trio of movies that you've done that address the Cold War, and I'm kind of stuck because I wanted to save my comments regarding the Cold War when I got to "Rambo III". The only other thread I can latch onto in this movie is the usual underdog theme, and fuck that.

Don't get me wrong. I love "Rocky IV", but not in the same way that I love the first Rocky movie. The first one I can legitimately defend as a quality piece of cinema that deserved every praise and award bestowed on it when it was released. This one, like its predecessor, I enjoy on a pure cheese ball factor. I mean, come on, there's a TALKING ROBOT that hangs around the Balboa home in this movie. There are THREE music video style montages: two training montages and one after Apollo Creed is killed by Ivan Drago where Rocky goes for a drive and has flashbacks that recap the previous three movies for us. Because, you know, people watching the fourth installment in a series of films don't have any idea what went on in the previous films and need a four minute song and montage of clips to remind us.

I digress. Back to the Cold War issue. This film has Rocky facing the human embodiment of Mother Russia himself, Ivan Drago. The first shot of the movie is two boxing gloves, one with an American flag and the other with a USSR flag, colliding before the opening credits. Rocky wears American flag boxing trunks while Drago wears red and yellow. I saw that you wrote the script for this movie. Perhaps you've learned a thing or two about making your metaphors a bit more subtle since this movie was made?

Much of this movie is just ludicrous and hard to believe. We're shown early in the film that Ivan's steroid pumped arms can punch twice as hard as the strongest boxer can. So, this basically means he can fucking destroy someone with ease, and he does so in the final match against Rocky. Balboa gets fucking wrecked for the first few minutes of the fight. Yet when Rocky lands one friggin' blow across Ivan's face midway through the fight, the tides turn for some unknown reason, and Rocky beats the shit out of him. Uh...how?

Earlier in the film, we are shown how much of a badass Ivan is when he goes up against Apollo Creed in another USA vs. USSR metaphoric match. Only that time, Drago not only demolishes Creed, but kills him. Creed, after all his pro-USA chest beating and arrogance, gets snuffed out in the ring.

Wait...

Blind patriotic flag waving and misguided "AMERICA IS #1" bravado and posturing? Where have I seen this before? Holy shit.

So were you making a prediction that the all-American tough guy attitude doesn't always work out as planned? Oh my god! Mr. Stallone, were you making political commentary on the war in Iraq fifteen years before it happened? Can you see things that we don't see, Sly?

Or maybe it was just your reaction to President Reagan's idiotic praise of Rambo (remember kids...Bush wasn't our first boneheaded president) in which he obviously missed the point of the character.

I'd rather think that you can see the future. That makes me look at "Demolition Man" in a whole new light. With that in mind, I can continue this project with a fresh outlook.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Peter Gardner

Project Stallone: "Rambo: First Blood Part II"

Rambo: First Blood Part II
By Peter John Gardner

While this is this the second entry in the series, Rambo: First Blood Part II is the movie everyone thinks of when you think of Rambo, whether you've seen it or not. This movie solidified Rambo's place in pop culture as a muscle bound, sweaty guy with a headband and a ginormous fucking machine gun shooting down all of those bad guys. Even President Ronald Reagan was a fan of the movie when it came out, and after the release of American hostages from Palestinian terrorists in 1985, Ronnie was quoted as saying, "After seeing Rambo last night, I know what to do next time this happens." This gave Americans the horrifying mental image of a shirtless Ronald Reagan, covered in sweat, and gunning down foreigners.

Rambo: First Blood Part II is inferior to its predecessor, in my opinion. While First Blood can be viewed as an examination of a veteran suffering from PTSD that is pushed too far; the sequel just takes the physical prowess of the character and places him in a "shoot the bad guys" situation overseas where no one seems to know how to aim their gun properly except for Stallone (otherwise known as 'Stormtrooper Syndrome').

The film starts off with Rambo in a prison camp, paying his dues from the previous movie by banging a sledgehammer against rocks. Rambo's commander from Vietnam finds him here and tells him that there are POWs still in Vietnam and that the American government needs solid proof that they are there. So, who better to send off to find Vietnam POWs than a former POW still suffering from PTSD that nearly blew up an entire fucking town in the previous movie? Never mind sending a specialized, top-secret task force or something. Let's send the loose cannon. At least the film captures the bone headedness of the Reagan administration properly.

Long story short, Rambo goes over there, blows stuff up, kills a bunch of commies, and falls in love. Yes. Rambo falls in love in love with a Vietnamese freedom fighter. I had forgotten all about this silly subplot since the last time I watched this movie.

I'm going to save the anti-war anti-Reagan commentary for the Rambo III (Rambo fights with the Taliban in that one!). Instead, there's a line that Rambo says a few times throughout the film that kinda stuck with me. Rambo justifies his return to enemy territory as being ok because he's "expendable". The government sees him as such, and Rambo thinks of himself that way.

It bothers me when employers see their employees as being "expendable". "So, that guy has been working here for 2 1/2 years? No matter. We need to cut costs for the holidays, and he's making twelve bucks an hour. We'll fire him for the next minor infraction that comes along and hire some schmuck to take his place for eight dollars an hour."

I've always felt that even the most dead end jobs should offer some kind of job security. Executives see only dollars and cents, not the bills that the guy mopping the floor has to pay in order to keep his family afloat. It's a shitty point of view, and I can understand that business is business and that businesses are there to make money, not coddle its employees, but still...employees are human beings. They're not just wind up robots that are there to serve a function. There's a human aspect to it all that gets lost as one climbs higher up the corporate ladder. No one should be seen as expendable, especially not soldiers. Employees for companies should feel safe in their jobs knowing that their boss sees them as a person instead of "$12.50 an hour".

I want to end this piece with a passage from the novelization of the film. No, I didn't read it; I Googled it, but it'll provide a nice leeway into Rambo III when I get to it. This dialogue ensues after Rambo rescues the POWs who have been stuck in prison camp for the past ten years:

"What's it like? In the world?"
Rambo hesitated.
"Well?" Banks asked. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing." Rambo couldn't bring himself to tell them. It would be too much. A sin. "Home? It's just the same," he lied. "The good old U.S. never changed."
"Come on, man. It must have."
"Sure. In a way, I guess. Ronald Reagan's president."
"Ronald . . .? Wait a minute. You don't mean the movie actor."
"Yep." Despite his agony, Rambo had to chuckle. "Death Valley Days himself."
"Well, holy fuck."
"Yeah, I said that many times."
And Rambo couldn't bring himself to tell them that Vietnam was about to change its name to Nicaragua. Or that the sound of John Lennon's 'Give Peace a Chance' had changed to the rattle of sabers.
And maybe that's why Luke Skywalker's light sword was so popular. The clean depiction of war. If you had your head cut off, you got a new one. In the movies. Yeah, John Wayne, Ronald Reagan, and the movies. No, he couldn't tell them about Nicaragua. It would be too much.

Project Stallone: "Rhinestone"

Rhinestone
By Peter John Gardner

Although I was born in New York, I have lived in the south for the better part of my life. While I spawned in Long Island, NY and lived there for my first seven years, my family moved to Dallas, TX when my father received a job offer from JCPenney HQs located in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. After seven years of Texas, my parents divorced, and my mom and I moved to Florida so that we could be closer to my grandparents. I've been living in the south for about 17 years now, yet it's never felt like home to me. Even though I only lived in NY for a few years, it was the NY mindset and culture that I most identified with, seeing as how my family consisted of native New Yorkers and New Englanders. To this day, I still have NY-to--Southern-America culture shock moments. I giggle when I see somebody wearing a cowboy hat, and I still think southern accents sound funny.

Rhinestone finds our old friend Sly in a similar boat. He plays a smart-mouthed, obnoxious, simple minded cab driver in New York City. He comes from a stereotypical Italian-American family (they have meatballs for lunch! Every day!) and lives above his father's funeral parlor. One night, when scaring the living shit out of some Japanese tourists in his taxi, he ends up at the Rhinestone club which just so happens to be THE place to go for country western...in New York City. Meanwhile, Club Rhinestone's in-house star Jake (played by Dolly Parton), has a bet going with the club's manager that she can turn the next "normal" person she sees into a country music sensation. Stallone nearly crashes into the front of the club with his taxi, tourists still in tow. And then, my friends, hilarity ensues...

The rest of the movie is just one awkward and uncomfortable moment after another as we see Stallone learning not only how to sing country music but the ins and outs of Southern culture as well ("If you want to be a real cowboy, you gotta mix your peas with your mashed potatoes!" says Dolly). Have you ever wanted to see Sylvester Stallone in cowboy attire? You got it. How about Stallone trying to get Dolly Parton to sleep with him? It's here. Stallone singing the most god awful country music you will ever hear? Rent this bad boy.

The movie is meant to be a comedy, but it left me feeling more awkward than anything. To its credit, Stallone's character is supposed to be obnoxious, and he handles that well (whether he's consciously doing so or not is another matter entirely). Dolly Parton, as ridiculous looking as she is under about ten pounds of makeup, is actually quite charming in her role. She's basically playing herself, but that's ok. Dolly's personality is basically that Southern-girl-next-door type; everyone knows a girl like Dolly, minus all the makeup.

Coming from a family with a prominent Italian-American side, I couldn't help but share Stallone's awkwardness and culture shock throughout this entire movie. I've had many embarrasing moments when hanging out with friends that grew up primarily in the south. For instance, I had no idea what the fuck grits were for most of my life. My family always called the dish polenta.

"Wanna go out fer breakfast and git some pancakes and grits?"
"Pancakes and wha...?"

This gem from an ex-girlfriend's family Thanksgiving dinner also sticks out in my mind:

Her uncle: "We're gonna have a barn raising this weekend. You should help out, Pieter (yes, that's how southern people pronounce my name)!
Me: "What the hell is a barn raising?"

There seems to be such a sharp divide between northeast culture and southern culture in America that when one combines the two, as in Rhinestone, the results aren't exactly comedic. They just feel like a series of really awkward scenes that rely solely on the fish-out-of-water element for laughs.

I'm 26 years old, and I've lived in the south for 19 years of my life. I don't really consider myself a New Yorker at heart. I never developed a New York accent (unlike everyone else in my family), my attachment to the state has dissipated over time, and whenever I've gone back to visit family, while I feel more comfortable there than in the South, it still doesn't quite feel like home. I don't really feel like a Southerner either. I don't care for Southern cooking, never got into country, never picked up a Southern accent, never understood the attachment to religion, never understood Southern pride and rebel flags, and I NEVER mix my peas with my mashed potatoes.

So, if New York doesn't feel like home, and I don't really fit in Texas or Florida, then where do I belong? This movie only reminded me of the black sheep insecurites that I feel with my friends, co-workers, and my own family. Rhinestone is supposed to be a comedy, but it just made me uncomfortable. While you may not share the same insecurities that I do, the sight of Stallone in cowboy swag line-dancing and singing country songs should be enough to make you squirm.

"Wherever you go, there you are." Ok, that's cool and all, but what if where you are just doesn't feel like it's where you're supposed to be?

Project Stallone: "Staying Alive"

Staying Alive
By Peter John Gardner

I am of the opinion that the makers of this movie intended it to be a masochistic experience for desperate souls that want to end their life. Watching this movie is an exercise of one's own will to live. As I watched this film, I considered suicide a few times, desperately wanting to get out of watching the rest of Staying Alive.

This movie is bad. Not just any kind of bad. It's a different kind of bad. This movie wrecked my soul.

For Project Stallone, I just follow along Stallone's filmography on imdb.com with Netflix. This movie, while written and directed by Sylvester Stallone, only featured him onscreen in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo. "Whatever," I thought to myself. I've watched a movie with a Sly cameo for the Project before (Lovers and Other Strangers) and ended up actually kind of liking the movie.

But not here. This movie's aim is to hurt you. I wouldn't be surprised to find out if this movie was commissioned by the government in order to control overpopulation.

"Staying Alive" is an unnecessary sequel to "Saturday Night Fever", which is actually a pretty damn good movie even if you don't like disco. I don't know whose idea it was to bring back Tony Manero for more dancing hijinks, but the aftermath is crystal clear. This movie killed Travolta's status as an A-list star, and his career wouldn't be revived until Quentin Tarantino brought him onboard as Vincent Vega in "Pulp Fiction".

Perhaps it was Stallone's idea. A tough talking, streetwise, Italian-American from New York that rises to the top using his own raw talent? Stallone can relate, I'm sure. Dancing around in leotards and thongs for Broadway auditions? If that was Stallone's idea as well, I think we might be starting to see an abundance of underlying homosexuality at this point in his career (for further proof, see Rocky III).

I know the notion of a Travolta and Stallone teamup excites all of us, but the results will make you hate yourself. The plot of this movie is a mess of cliche and disjointed scenes that have no relevance to the plot of the movie. It's basically a boy-meets-girl, boy-thinks-he's-hot-shit, girl-ends-up-using-boy, boy-tries-to-win-her-over-with-his-supreme-dance-moves film. It lacks the fun and sass of Saturday Night Fever, as well as a decent soundtrack. Whereas in Saturday Night Fever, most of the songs are recognizable to even the most casual viewer, "Staying Alive" is flooded with dance sequences set to 80's synth pop that sounds like something you'd hear while shopping at TJ Maxx on a Sunday morning.

And there are MANY closeups of Travolta's crotch. They are so abundant that I refuse to believe that they weren't deliberately trying to insert as many crotch shots as possible. If you've ever wondered what kind of heat Travolta is packing, then this movie is for you.

But it's not the crotch shots that killed this movie for me. The plot is predictable, the dialogue will have you thinking, "Nobody fucking says that", the dance sequences aren't exciting at all, and the acting will make you want to stab yourself in the crotch with a pair of scissors. Nothing in this movie will enlighten anyone. Believe me, I tried to find some kind of lesson in this film, but I've got nothing other than repeating the usual underdog themes that I've discussed for previous Stallone films.

That doesn't mean that I didn't get anything out of this experience. After making it through "Staying Alive" with my wrists uncut, I now know that I can withstand anything that life may throw at me. It was a test of endurance and willpower, and I passed. In fact, I feel that anyone that can make it through Staying Alive's 93 minute runtime is a tough cookie. I don't know if making it through this movie has enlightened me in any kind of way; all I can say is that I survived.