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.

Project Stallone: "First Blood"

First Blood
By Peter John Gardner

I can't think of a single person that I know that doesn't support our troops over in Iraq. Even the staunchest opponents of the war still support our troops. How could you not? It's not like those that are against the war want our brothers and sisters to die horrible deaths over there (as a side note, I really hate it when pro-Iraq war people try to play this card. "You're against the war? That's not supporting our troops!!" Oh, go stick your dick in an electric outlet).

Ok, so we all say that we support the troops, but do we support our veterans? How many times have you seen a scraggly looking guy on the side of the road wearing an army jacket, possibly missing a limb, and holding a sign that says something to the effect of, "Vietnam Vet. Will work for food"? Life taught us to support our friends in the military, but it also taught us to not trust hitchhikers. So there's a 50/50 chance that the veteran without an arm leering at you while you anxiously await for the stoplight to turn green could either be a drifter that was never able to adjust back into normal life or an axe murderer waiting to chop off your reproductive organs and steal the twelve bucks in your wallet.

First Blood is about drifters like these. It's the first of the Rambo series, but it's not a one man vs. 239,764,567 Russians movie like the sequels turned out to be. John Rambo never really found his place in society when he returned from the Vietnam War, so he spends his days wandering around the country, hitching rides from strangers, and picking up a meal when someone is kind enough to offer one. The movie opens with him finding out that the last soldier in his team/squad/troop/whatever-the-fuck-you-call-it has passed away from cancer brought on upon by Agent Orange. Rambo is sad.

One of you graphic-design savvy people should make a Stallone sadface emoticon for me.

Rambo makes his way to a small town in the Pacific Northwest to collect his thoughts and possibly find a warm meal. Now, this is a nice town with nice people, and the police here don't take too kindly to "unsightly" drifters such as Rambo, so the sheriff tries to escort Rambo out of town. Rambo is frustrated.

He goes back into town in defiance because he just wants some food and a place to sleep for a while. The sheriff catches him again, and this time he takes Ramby Bamby downtown where the other officers have their way with him. I should clarify that. They don't rape him, but they each take turns beating the shit out of him. This triggers some POW flashbacks in Rambo's brain, and he goes APESHIT. Turns out that the drifter that they've been beating up used to be a Green Beret in Vietnam. Oops. After single handedly taking on four officers, Rambologna makes his way out of the police station and into the mountains. Rambo is pissed. The police are even more pissed.

And the adventure is on. The rest of the movie is a manhunt carried out by the entire county's sheriff's department, the FBI, and the local National Guard. Unlike the sequels, Rambone never directly kills anyone in this movie. He does set many traps and scares the shit out of anyone that crosses paths with him in the forest. Rambo doesn't take shit from anyone.

I wish I knew how to make a story like this relevant to my life and yours. The movie itself seems to be a protest against war, saying, "See what happens when we make killing machines out of these men and then return them to normal life?", but I don't want to write an anti-war piece (I'll save that for Rambo III or Spy Kids 3-D). Is the lesson here to pick up grungy vets on the side of the road because if you push them the wrong way, they might go all one man army against the town? I don't think so. Even though I'm sure that deep down, most of those vets you see are good hearted people that simply can't readjust and have become socially retarded. Yet, for my own safety, I really don't think I'd offer one a ride. If I had a business or something, I might offer a job.

I think what I'm getting at is the way we look at these people. We celebrate the vets that have come back from war and successfully reintegrated themselves back into the daily grind of life, yet we fear the ones who haven't. War is a scary thing, and I couldn't imagine not being fucked in the head after seeing some of the things that soldiers see every day. The movie itself seems to be a protest against war, saying, "See what happens when we make killing machines out of these men and then return them to normal life?" So why do we shy away from the ones that need a little extra help? Remember Frodo at the end of Lord of the Rings? Same thing. He couldn't readjust to normal life in the Shire, so he went to Valinor, but we all still loved him, right? Flimsy parallel, I know, but do you see what I'm getting at?

Maybe it's just the overall fear of hitchhikers that prevent us from helping out these vets. I'm one of the guilty ones, though. I'll give an extra dollar or two if I'm chatting with a drunk, homeless vet downtown or something, but I'm sure as hell not giving a ride to one of them. I value my testicles.

*Footnote: This dvd has some of the most hilariously useless special features I've ever seen. It boasts "groundbreaking military special operations survival mode features" which really just amount to a sniper scope appearing onscreen at different points during the film to let you know important information like what is happening right now. For example, Rambo is trying to make his way through an underground sewer filled with rats. The "survival mode" thingee pops up and tells you that, yes, those are indeed rats. Nothing about what went into making the scene, what kind of rats they might be, did Stallone get his nipples bit by one, etc. Nope. It just tells us that they're rats. Gee, thanks!

Project Stallone: "Rocky III"

Rocky III
By Peter John Gardner

"To all my love slaves out there: Thunderlips is here. In the flesh, baby. The ultimate male versus... the ultimate meatball."

So says Thunderlips, played by none other than Hulk Hogan, in the third installment in the Rocky series; a moment that I like to pinpoint as the exact moment where Stallone movies can't be taken seriously anymore. "The Party at Kitty and Stud's" aside, Stallone's repertoire up until this point consisted of movies, while still bad, where legit attempts at selling Stallone as a serious actor/writer/director. When you've got Hulk Hogan, Mr. T, and Burgess Meredith together in one movie, one can only mutter, "What the hell?", sit back, and revel in the awesomeness of this cornucopia of 80's pop culture.

Like all Rocky movies, Rocky III opens up with a recap of what went down in the previous film, that being Apollo Creed. What follows is a montage of Rocky beating the crap out of his subsequent opponents. Presumably, we're supposed to see Rocky becoming more cocky and overconfident during this montage, but it's hard to feel that when they've got the triumphant sounding Rocky theme playing.

You've probably seen this movie on a Sunday afternoon at some point in your life, so I'll spare you a lengthy summary of the film. Basically what happens is Mr. T wants a shot at Rocky's belt, Rock-o thinks his shit doesn't stink and doesn't take the challenge seriously, so Mr. T destroys him in the first match. Mr. Balboa wants the title back, but his confidence and will is destroyed. Only his ex-rival, Apollo Creed, can help He-Who-Says-"Yo" regain his confidence and hunger or his "eye of the tiger" as Creed calls it so we can have the Survivor song fit snugly into the film. The two boxers befriend each other in the second most repressed homosexual relationship in an 80's movie (the first being Top Gun, of course). Seriously, watch the token training montage late in the film where they're running on the beach together. You can't tell me those two don't want each other.

The term "eye of the tiger" would make a great euphamism for Stallone's urethra.

At this point, there are so many stupid one-liners and jokes that Rocky has become harder to relate to as a person and thus feels more like a cartoon character. Beneath the cheese of it all lies a theme (I think) of confidence. One cannot become too confident when they find success or else they run the risk of forgetting where they came from. Success can take away a person's drive to one-up themself and can provide a false feeling of invincibility. In Rocky's case, being too cocky led to a swift ass beating from Mr. T.

I've always tried to remain a humble person. Some would call it low self-esteem, but that's not how I look at it. I've achieved things in my life that I'm proud of, and want other people to be proud of, but I also know that I'm nothing in the grand scheme of things. I barely register on your radar. Always assuming that someone can do something better than me gives me a will to try my hardest. If I thought I was the shit, I would become lazy and think that no one could do better than me and not give it my all. I guess the lesson to learn from Rocky III is to know your strengths well, but be aware that if you become too arrogant, you'll wind up getting the shit beat out of you by Mr. T.

"Nothing is real if you don't believe in who you are!" Thanks for that nugget of wisdom, Rocky.

Project Stallone: "Victory"

Victory
By Peter John Gardner

I've noticed that the two main "interests" that parents forcibly put their kids into during their formative years are sports and religion. As far as religion is concerned, I lucked out. While my parents were both religious (Mom is Catholic, Dad's a Lutheran), they felt it was wrong to shove it down my throat as a kid, so they preferred to let me research things and discover it on my own. I eventually grew into being an atheist. Instead, they enrolled me in various sports in order to keep me busy as a child. I played basketball, baseball, and soccer, and I rocked at all three of them. In baseball, I held the title for most stolen bases in the league for three years in a row, and my team was first place in our division for two years. As a goalie in soccer, I won the MVP award in the league one year, and we usually placed second or third in our division.

As time passed and all of the kids started to grow up, the coaches and leagues started to place more stress on the competitive aspect of the sports rather than the usual, "Let's just go out there and have fun!" attitude. This turned me off, big time. I just liked to play the game; I didn't give a fuck either which way whether or not we won. The older I got, the harder the coaches would be on the team when we weren't winning, and I hated that as a kid. So, when school finished up one year (I think this was around 6th or 7th grade), and my mom asked me if I wanted to sign up for baseball that summer, I told her no, and gave her the same answer when the new seasons for basketball and soccer started up. I was tired of competition. I just liked to play. To me, it was a hobby. I didn't see anything to gain from winning other than a cheap trophy and the right to say, "Yeah! We kicked the CRAP out of those 12 year olds! Whoooo!!!"

Rocky and a few other films aside (Field of Dreams, Major League, Rudy, etc.), I never really cared for sports movies which stemmed from the bad taste that I had acquired from my last days playing. So, I went into Stallone's 1981 film Victory ready to bored and stumped as to what I was going to get out of a movie like this.

The film is set at a Nazi POW camp during WWII. This camp is filled with mostly British and American prisoners, so in order to comply with Geneva Convention, the prisoners here actually have it quite good. Other than somebody getting shot to death trying to escape the camp in the opening scene of the movie, the camp seems like Club Med compared to concentration camps that non-POWS (i.e. Jews) were put into . This place seems less like Auschwitz and more like Camp Nowhere. Hell, in this movie, the Nazs seem like pretty nice guys. They never really talk down to the prisoners, feed and dress them well, let them roam around the camp freely, and even make an offer to the prisoners for a game of football (better known as soccer to us fat Americans). So, the head Nazi leader makes an offer to one of the POWs who happens to be an ex-football pro, played by the always charming Michael Caine. Caine's character agrees providing that he gets to choose his own team and that the Nazis provide proper equipment for the players.

Stallone plays Capt. Robert Hatch, an American POW that barges his way onto the team using the same nagging tactics that Stallone normally uses to woo women in previous films ("Hey, yo. Can I be on your team? Hey, yo, I'm pretty good, ya know? You see that kick? I can do that all the time? Am I the team yet? Yo. Hey, ya know, why are you ignoring me?"). Hatch not only wants to play the game, but he also has ulterior motives. Stallone wants to escape the camp, and he sees the soccer match as his ticket out. The rest of the film follows typical sports movie formula. The team sucks at first, they acquire some new players, including, I shit you not, the legendary Pele. The team gets better, Hatch "hatches" a plan to escape during the final match, and we get to the final game where everything follows according to formula. OUr heroes start off winning, then the Nazis start kicking their ass, and just when we're supposed to think that the POWs are finished, they make a huge, and unrealistic, comeback. Hatch and company escape and everything is hunky dory.

Watching the last act of the movie gave me an epiphany. Because I always rejected the competitive aspect of sports, I started to reject any kind of competitive traits my personality was trying to develop. I think this eventually hurt me in life, in many different areas. Too many times in my life, I have not tried for something because I always had a mindset of, "Why compete? They'll probably find someone better anyway". The thrill of winning something was too far gone from my life that I forgot what it felt like. Not winning anything helped sink my self esteem as I grew up.

Opportunities for promotion at various jobs I've worked at were always ignored by me because I would think, "Eh, they'll find somebody more deserving". Many times a girl would show interest in me, I would pull back sometimes with the thought of, "Why bother? She'll eventually find somebody better than me".

I think I ignored competition because deep down inside, I never felt like anything was at stake. Watching Victory with an analytical mindset made me realize that A LOT was at stake during all of the times I ignored competition for windows of opportunity. The lack of a drive to win has hurt my chances at life, and I think that had I felt like I was worth something while those windows were open, I would've jumped through without looking, and maybe, just maybe, I would be standing in a different place in my life right now. If I had competed more, maybe I could've "won". Maybe that would've made me feel like, "Well, I can do this really well, and others seem to agree", and I would've had more progress throughout life.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to say that winning is the most important part of sports or any other competitive situation. I still believe that having fun is what's most important. But rejecting the competition that life had to offer left me little opportunity to actually win anything at all, and that affected my decision making later on in life.

I need to take more chances in life and stop selling myself short. Having low self esteem not only hurts myself, but brings others down as well. I need to stop reflecting on what I never did and instead focus on what I could do. As far as the things I don't think I can do, who else but myself says I can't do them? Fuck that. While Orlando isn't exactly a Nazi POW camp, I'm never going to make it out of here a success if I don't try. I must stop being my own worst critic and leave it up for others to decide.

Project Stallone: "Nighthawks"

Nighthawks
By Peter John Gardner

Lando Calrissian. Just the mere mention of that name simultaneously brings about arguments amongst Star Wars fans over whether or not he was a better pilot than Han while the rest of the world collectively rolls their eyes and continue to get laid.

I’ve always been indifferent towards Lando. When I was a kid, I didn’t think he was as exciting as Luke, Han, or anyone else in the Star Wars universe. As an adult, I can see that while his character is crucial to The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, I kinda think that the fact that he’s little more than a Han clone weakens his character.

But, I digress. You come here for Stallone, not Star Wars.

I only mention Lando because Stallone's co-star in this political fueled thriller is none other than Lando himself, Billy Dee Williams. Lando and Stallone star as two New York City undercover cops that routinely clean up the criminal trash permiating the seedy bowels of pre-Giuliani NYC. When I say "undercover", I'm not fucking around. You see Sylvester Stallone in a blond wig in the first 10 minutes of the movie. Stallone in a blond wig and Lando Calrissian in the same movie? How can that not be great?

Well, as with most of these movies, it's not. If this movie were made in this day and age, I wonder how it would be received by the public. The plot centers around Rutger Hauer's character, Wulfgar, who is a terrorist bomber, back before everybody associated terrorism with Al-Qaeda. When the feds find out that Wulfgar has come to America and is ready to fuck shit up (his motivations aren't explained that well), the government decides to enlist the best cops that NYC has to offer.

The moment where the plot kicks into gear is where I found myself identifying most with Stallone's character. At a briefing regarding Wulfgar and ways to prevent terrorist activity, Stallone keeps asking the lead investigator questions like, "Hey, yo. Why are we still in this room? Why, uh, why aren't we out catching this guy?" and most importantly, "What do you want out of us?"

What do you want out of us...I find myself asking that everytime the government mentions terrorism. I've been casually following the race for the White House and of course, terrorism is a big talking point. Giuliani and most of the other Republicans seem to be taking the same stance that the Bush administration has, that being, "Vote for us or else we're going to get attacked again! Holy shit!", while the Democrats seem to dance around the issue without really offering any clear solutions.

It's been six years since 9/11. We haven't had a major terrorist attack since then, and who knows if anyone out there is responsible for preventing them since (like our president would have you believe, but he hasn't been a reliable source of information) or if another big attack just hasn't happened yet. It's not like we get attacked by terrorists all the time. If you recall, the previous foreign terrorist attack on US soil was at WTC in the early 90s. It's not like these things happen every few weeks.

Still, candidates from both sides of the spectrum like to hang the terrorist card over our heads as a political tool. But I quote Stallone when I ask, "Well, what the hell are we supposed to do?" Really, in the six years since 9/11, has your life changed drastically? Do you do anything different in your daily life? Other than airports being more of a pain in the ass than before, I haven't detected much change in my life. When the government warns me about terrorism, what are average people like you and me supposed to do? When they raise the terror alert, do we stay inside for the night or sit outside holding shotguns? No. I'm not trying to belittle the threat. We lost many of our brothers and sisters on that day, and I've complied with the bumper stickers that littered pickup trucks in the aftermath that told me to never forget. It's the "Vote for me and I will protect you" mentality that I don't understand. It's the fear tactic that I'm tired of seeing politicians use. I'm not going to go overboard and say that's the kind of shit that leads to a dictatorship, but I would like to point out that through the use of fear, the Bush admistration has gained more powers than any previous administration.

'Hey, yo. What are we supposed to do?" My opinion? Nothing, really. Living in fear is no way to live. Other countries out there, such as Northern Ireland, face terrorist attacks on their soil every month. Do their citizens cower in fear and refuse to go outside? No. They just go on with their business. Yeah, things are getting blown up, people are dying, and we all feel remorseful, but what can one do about it?

Terrorism and the war in Iraq are both major issues, but there is other shit that I wish the candidates would talk more about instead of focusing like on those like we did in 2004. What about our cracked educational system? What about our ginormous deficit? Our healthcare system? The environment? Terrorism is something we should be conscious and aware of, but it shouldn't be the only thing that we should be thinking about. The world is full of other things to be afraid of as well, like Stallone in a blond wig and dress. That's the kind of shit that keeps me up at night.