Revised Movie Rating Guide
R – Remake. As in, let’s remake it even if it was only a marginally good movie the first time around. Sometimes it’s remade into an entirely different movie, and sometimes it was a pretty decent movie originally. The standard formula for a remake is to take the original movie, remove everything related to character and plot development, and replace it with things blowing up or going really fast. Or blowing up AND going really fast.
S – Sequel. Similar to the remake. Except here they take an idea and try picking up where the first one left off. Sometimes that makes sense, other times, well… not so much. Look at the various incarnations of Psycho. Then, other times they simply rehash the first movie, occasionally moving from solid horror to dark-comedy horror, then eventually back to horror. Look at all the Nightmare on Elm Streets and Friday the 13ths. Then there are all the Rocky flicks, where he first fights a mean black guy, eventually fighting a meaner black guy, then a mean Russian guy, to who knows what else.
There must be some sort of rating for movies such as Titanic and The English Patient. Titanic I classify as possibly the scariest movie of all time. 11 Academy Awards for a three-hour long love triangle. Movies such as Titanic and The English Patient both prove Einstein’s time dilation theory, because when you go in there, only two or three hours pass for the rest of the world, but for the viewer, ten years go by. That’s it! Ten years of your life, just Poof! Gone! Can’t get them back. All because you watched one of the most brain-frying movies ever made. I know that there are blank spots in my memory due to watching these films. I remember going in the theater, sitting down with my Twizzlers and lemonade, but there are entire parts of my memory that are gone! My Twizzlers and drink were gone, so I know I was there, but I can’t account for my time.
This leads me to conclude the board that decides who and what gets Academy Awards all have the IQ of asparagus. I just want to go in there and shout, “For the love of God, what are you doing?” A friend of mine just planted an even more horrifying image in my mind – that one day Adam Sandler will win an Award. When that day arrives, I’ll leave the country. I’ll tell my wife, “Honey, pack your bags. We have to get out now.” Somewhere in the world there has to be a place with some small shred of sanity.
Well, meandered enough for tonight.
‘til next time… Adios.