I had forgotten how this movie ends but once it came my enchanted smirk turned into a giant grin of both heartbreak and happiness. I didn't want it to end and at 80 minutes, I could have easily sat for another 80. I don't think I'm emotionally equipped to dive into Midnight just yet. This one has to simmer for a while. The vibe it leaves with you is almost too much to handle.
Your daily reminder that Stallone movies never used to be cheesy, that 90-minute action movies are the best kind of action movie, that the Pacific Northwest is one of the most cinematic environments, that Jerry Goldsmith could do no wrong, that John Rambo is more-or-less a weaponized Frankenstein's monster created by Trautman, that Brian Dennehy's character has the name Will Teasle, that Stallone's body fat used to be 2.3%, that director Ted Kotcheff also made Weekend at Bernie's. That is all.
A simple fact: action movies have been neutered, half-baked, half-written and served cold for children with Attention Deficit Disorder. Die Hard has aged into a lost art. It has a wholly original, unpredictable screenplay, crisp with sharp dialogue matched with badass line delivery through the mouths of believable human characters (This sentence alone cannot be attributed to a single modern action film). There is a tight plot that gradually escalates, accumulating ZERO gaps in logic equaling to not a single…
"Time just gets away from us."
Only the Coens. The most authentic western in modern memory, only the Coens could accomplish what they do here and they warrant rewatchability to spare. For one, the Coens are masters of language. Always have been, always will be. The way they go about capturing the Old West linguistics and dialects and transplant them into unique and unusual accents of characters is an absolute treat to experience and in the process, transplants the viewer…