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“Moonrise Kingdom,” Anderson’s first live-action film since the disappointing “The Darjeeling Limite,” five years ago, gathers a typically eclectic cast to tell a story that, well, it’s pretty hard to suss it all out.

Anderson’s latest follows a pair of pre-teens who decide to run away from their respective families. The trailer doesn’t offer much more than that, but we get plenty of stylistic flourishes, that uniquely Anderson way of framing his characters and familiar faces cast in unfamiliar roles.

When was the last time Edward Norton looked so lovable, or so lost?

Murray is on hand, of course, along with Frances McDormand, Bruce Willis, Tilda Swinton and “Rushmore’s” Jason Schwartzman.

One’s affection for “Kingdom” might hinge on your reaction to Anderson’s past work. He’s clearly not mucking with his own formula, which is very good news – as long as this isn’t another “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.” Anderson’s 2004 bomb remains one of the punishing movie experiences in recent memory.

I drop the movie off and get a half-assed “hello” from one of the cashiers. I take one look around and the place is dead. I can’t even remember what I came here for. I start browsing. All I can hear is the static of the old TVs playing what is probably “Schindler’s List,” but the poor quality of the sets make it look like an Ed Wood movie and the cashiers talking about what level they are in “Skyrim.” I grab my movie and head to the counter.

The college-age, bearded cashier scans my movie without much thought. Clearly, he probably wants to be somewhere else … and maybe I do, too. He’s nice enough, and I even hear the other cashier explain the plot of the movie “Super 8″ to a customer over the phone which is impressive in this day and age of the too-ironic-to-be-good-at my-minimum-wage-job attitude. I leave the store to hop in my gas-guzzling truck to head home to the cool tune of about $10 in gas ( I live two miles away – an over exaggeration, but not by much, sadly).

If I still had Netflix, my movie viewing night would have gone a little something like this: I pop open my laptop, pick the genre I want and start watching whatever I want and, if I get bored, I just stop the movie and start a new one. Hmm. Easy as pie. And we know how we all love pie! Because we are American! Hoo-ah (except meat pie — is that even real!?).

Considering you probably watch your movies through Netflix and your movie watching life is just as easy, if not more easy than what I just wrote, you’re probably laughing at my one of many Blockbuster experiences and wondering why the hell I don’t just wake up … oh, but I have. It’s time to wake you up, sirs and ma’ams.

In 2009, there was this mostly forgotten Bruce Willis starring sci-fi flick entitled “Surrogates” – forgotten by most, except me. The film was about a world where people live vicariously through robot surrogates that make them stronger, faster, etc., all done from the comfort of their own home. Meanwhile, there is a small fraction of society that prefers the real deal to what the surrogates provide (these people can be seen as an obvious reference to the Tea Party). And Bruce Willis is the guy caught in between everything. I had Netflix when the movie came out. Then I deleted it. Why would I do such a thing?

The movie reminded me of something. Film lovers will agree when I say that films provide more than just a passionate look into another world for us and a reflection of our own. Films go hand in hand with experiences that enrich us as people, storytellers, etc. Where would movies be if storytellers simply sat at home watching everything on a computer, never bothering to experience what the world and the movie viewing world has to offer, good or bad? Movies would suck. Well, movies already do suck, but there are some good ones, I declare! And we wouldn’t have those gems without the experiences of the artists behind it.

On one occasion, I was searching for “The Boondock Saints: All Saints Day” so I could introduce the right-wing vigilante brothers to a couple buddies of mine. While searching, I ran into a man gazing at the first film. He had the famous line “In nomine patris” tattooed on his right arm. When he saw me reach for the sequel to the beloved cult classic, we struck up an interesting conversation. He asked how I knew about the films. We must’ve talked for at least fifteen minutes. We talked about the journey of the film’s director, Troy Duffy, and what our thoughts were on vigilantes in general and what our favorite films and books were that dealt with the subject.

When I go to rent a movie, I have something to come home and write about — not just the movie but the whole experience. I run the risk of picking something bad, I run the risk of spending too much money, but so what? I also run the risk of meeting new people, encountering obstacles I may hate. I’m experiencing something intimate between me, these four walls and whatever B-grade schlock I choose to indulge on.

Why do you think filmmakers like Robert Rodriquez and Quentin Tarantino and movie critic Stephen Hunter all preferred the grindhouse theaters to the more convenient upper class theaters? Because the whole experience gave in to their wild movie watching imaginations. There is no imagination involved in sitting at a computer browsing randomly through film after film. The grindhouse feature houses were to regular movie theaters what Blockbuster is to Netflix, in a way. They provide a hand in hand experience for us.

There’s always been this fight of trying to eliminate consequences from everyday life, mistakes, but what if those are what define us as human beings? Those consequences and those mistakes are certainly what is the backdrop to most of our beloved films. So stick with your Netflix and your laptop. It’s fine. Me? Call me a dinosaur, call me a Nazi, but I think I’m going to stick to the zit-faced bearded kid behind the counter and the bad TVs and the candy and sodas and the old couple browsing through the horror section stupefied because they think this is supposed to be the comedy section. I’ll stick with all that because that’s my grindhouse. That’s my experience.

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This does look as though it might be a better movie than the first one, not that that’s a very high bar. That closing line from Bruce Willis is hilarious and telegraphs that the new installment might add something else its predecessor lacked, a sharp sense of humor.

However, it’s hard not to resent Hollywood for stripping, of all things, G.I. Joe of its uniquely American heritage. This burns up an awful lot of goodwill. Can you imagine Hollywood doing such a thing to any other group? They wouldn’t even consider it, unless it was to protect some sacred cow.

Muslim terrorists come to mind.

Great soundtrack? Yup. Aging actors rescued from obscurity? Yes, indeed. Dialogue so quotable you could print bumper stickers from every other line in the script? Oh, yeah.

But back in 1994, when the film first rocked movie houses, ‘Pulp Fiction’ was simply Tarantino’s entrance into the upper echelon of movie makers. The film hasn’t lost its zip in its new Blu-ray incarnation. If anything, the giddiness Tarantino fuses to the action genre is more appealing in an era of shaky cams and uncertain plot twists.

‘Pulp Fiction’ defies knee-jerk categorization. It’s a series of interlocking stories with a chronological hiccup or two to keep us guessing.

The main story involves a pair of chatty thugs doing the bidding of the mysterious Marsellus (Ving Rhames). Vincent and Jules (John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson) crack wise in between blood-thirsty assignments. Vincent seems more interested in cultural differences across the pond than doing Marsellus’ dirty work, while Jules has a speech for nearly any occasion.

But Vincent gets more than he bargained for when Marsellus asks him to escort his lovely wife (Uma Thurman) on a platonic date.

Travolta brought his career back from the ‘Look Who’s Talking’ abyss with ‘Fiction.’ Whether it’s acting unsure of his desires around Thurman’s character or tearing up the dance floor with moves inspired by Adam West, Travolta reaffirms his movie star status in spades. His scenes with Thurman crackle with temptation, as Thurman twists Vincent around her manicured finger just for the thrill of it.

Yes, their ensuing dance sequence is worth rewinding, but it’s how their conversations evolve that cements their bond.

Jackson, arguably the best conduit for Tarantino’s rat-a-tat-tat dialogue, makes Jules a fearsome presence no matter how wide the actor’s grin grows.

The second half of ‘Pulp Fiction’ cannot measure up to the first. Bruce Willis’ turn as an aging boxer who refuses to throw a fight is a hoot, but it lacks the panache of those early Travolta sequences. Even when the story heads back to the diner where it all began the film can’t quite recapture that fizzy sense of the unknown.

One can quibble that Tarantino is being too precious with some of the film’s now-iconic moments, like the retro diner where Elvis impersonators mingle with wannabe Jayne Mansfields. But Tarantino’s control of the material is masterful – there’s not a wasted gesture or syllable.

The Blu-ray edition comes packed with six-plus hours of extras, including cast interviews, behind-the-scenes footage, a Tarantino interview on ‘The Charlie Rose Show,’ still galleries and a retrospective on the director’s career featuring Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert.

The other day, I clicked the link at the top of Big Hollywood that led me to a commentary by Michael Lee at “The Wrap.” Mr. Lee takes aim at John Nolte’s commentary about the Ricky Gervais performance at the Golden Globes.  As I waded  through the piece I quickly realized that Mr. Lee didn’t understand the basic points that John made.

And this, unfortunately, is typical.

John Nolte made the astute observation that Gervais‘ performance was awesome because he took the witty, acidic, and mean spirited humor that is usually aimed by Hollywood at the American populace and turned it on the sanctimonious, self-righteous entertainment community.   Had Gervais been ten times more vulgar but aimed it all at Sarah Palin, George Bush, and people who believed in God, there would be no discussion.  There would be no outrage.  There would be absolutely zero press.  Gervais would probably be paid double to return next year.

Lee explains that many of Gervais‘ targets, like the Bush supporting Bruce Willis or the Libertarian minded Angelina Jolie, are far from typical Hollywood leftists.  Make no mistake, Lee informs us, Gervais is no friend to conservatives.  Just because he’s making fun of Hollywood, we anti-intellectual, anti-science types need to think about who he insulted during the show.  If we just “connected the dots” we probably wouldn’t be so excited.

But the point lost on Lee is that we already have.

There’s simply no need for Lee to explain to us that Gervais is no conservative; no one at Big Hollywood has ever claimed him to be one.  Nolte was merely making light of the fact that Gervais and we at Big Hollywood just so happen to share the pleasure of taking anointed Hollywood elites down a peg.  We’re talking what’s truly edgy humor in 2011, Lee’s talking political ideology.  We’re talking apples, he’s talking space ships.

Here’s another aspect to Gervaisgate that hasn’t been touched on.  It’s an aspect that I’m sure will fall far beyond the scope of understanding by our detractors.

Even though my resume doesn’t contain a bunch of projects with “A” list celebrities, I do know them.  Personally.  You see, Leigh Scott knows how to party.  I’ve never been the guy to use those relationships to further my career because I always figured I’d be better off approaching them from a more level playing field.  I’ve always felt awkward, sitting drunk at a table at the Sky Bar, brining up a screenplay or project.  I enjoy being “the fun guy” who doesn’t talk business but can drink everyone under the table.  I like it when an actor says to me, “I didn’t know you made films.  Why didn’t you call me?”

We will see how my plans works out.

But I was there when a certain A-list actress stripped nude in the hallway of the Chateau Marmont and decided it would be fun to do cartwheels.  I’ve sat with a notorious, leftist, movie star drinking Grey Goose and hitting on UCLA sorority girls while he texted his sick wife telling her he’d be home soon.  I’ve had drinks with a certain talk show host while he entertained his high priced call girl.  And, I’ve crammed into a nightclub restroom stall with an Oscar winner and an Emmy winner to consume illegal narcotics.

I’ve seen these people at their worst.  Going off on racist and misogynist rants.  Cheating on their wives and husbands.  Crying over failed relationships and cancelled pilots.  Getting sick and throwing up all over their Mercedes 500 SL.

If you’re reading this, “you know who,” you remember that night.  Awesome, right?

My intent is not to create a Big Hollywood version of Gawker’s “Blind Items.”  The point is, I know that the politically correct nonsense, the sanctimonious lectures and soap box speeches, and the displays of charity and compassion are all for show.  Most of the people who grace our movie and television screens are insecure degenerates.  Charlie Sheen, believe it or not, is by far not the worst.  He just doesn’t try and hide it.  He doesn’t care what people think.  I kinda respect that.

What Gervais did was let us, the humble masses, in on the joke.  That wasn’t just a routine.  It’s what he would say if you were doing shots with him at the China Club.  It wasn’t that he “brought down” the elites of Hollywood, he elevated the viewer into the inner circle.  Bringing down the top appeals to progressives.  The notion of elevating the bottom appeals to conservatives.   No wonder we liked it.

Now, if he had included hookers and blow, we could have had the full experience.

To recap: Leftists are often unwilling or incapable of engaging the cogent arguments conservatives make. Ricky Gervais gave us a glimpse into the inner workings of the Hollywood social scene.  Actors are degenerates.  I just admitted to committing a felony on a conservative website.  Yeah, that about sums it up.

Let’s hope Ricky Gervais hosts another awards show, or that other hosts follow in his footsteps.

Likewise, let’s hope Michael Lee rereads John Nolte’s post and writes a commentary that actually addresses the issue at hand.

Reuters:

Gervais’s jokes were so incendiary that when he went missing during the second half of the show, the Twitterverse lit up with suggestions that he’d been fired backstage. Clearly, Gervais had done so much damage entertaining the viewers at home (or appalling them, depending on their belief in decorum), that he became the story of the night. …

—–

Returning Golden Globes host Ricky Gervais did indeed let it be known that he wasn’t going to hold back in skewering Hollywood’s most famous celebrities. And, in what will undoubtedly be his last hosting gig for the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (and, who knows, maybe any Stateside awards) he didn’t disappoint.

But in the process of making searingly funny jokes at more than just the obvious targets (Charlie Sheen, Mel Gibson, the HFPA itself), the heat he put into the punch lines might have made him more of the story than the actual winners.

And yet, it made for compelling — if sometimes wince-inducing — television. Given the staid lameness of most awards shows — hello, Emmys — at least he kept those who are not in the industry laughing uproariously. (His “I warned them” line came after a particularly funny joke about Hugh Hefner’s new fiancee, complete with physical comedy and facial expressions).

Gervais’ biting lines were scattered at various stars (and movies like The Tourist), with not everyone taking kindly to the treatment. Bruce Willis seemed miffed to be called the father of Ashton Kutcher, Robert Downey Jr. seemed to take slight umbrage about his rehab past (before going into his own salacious and super speech), etc. Even when the jokes weren’t directed at them, some stars took gentle swipes back, as when Tom Hanks, who just received a rave recitation of his career achievement from Gervais, protected Tim Allen, who received none.

Full article here.

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While “Ocean’s Eleven” featured more exciting actors like Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and George Clooney, “Red” has a stronger and more well-respected cast. It features iconic actors like Morgan Freeman, John Malkovich, and Helen Mirren. Both “Ocean’s” and “Red” were far-fetched and over the top, but each movie overcame its shortcomings with its cast.

“Red” opens on Frank (Bruce Willis), a retired and lonely man who receives his pension check in the mail. He’s trying to maintain a relationship with an employee at the pension office named Sarah (Mary-Louise Parker). Once he receives his check, he immediately destroys it and then calls her to say that it never arrived. Frank eventually wants to meet Sarah but she’s nervous about such an encounter. However, meeting her becomes a necessity when a team of assassins targets Frank for elimination. When their plan fails, Frank is forced to kidnap Sarah to protect her from any danger she may be in. (Frank has spent so much time on the phone with Sarah that he fears she might used as a way to get to him.)

The film’s title refers to a group of former C.I.A. officers (including Frank)who are known by the initials R.E.D: Retired, Extremely Dangerous. On the run from assassins, Frank and Sarah are forced to reunite with some of his R.E.D. colleagues to figure out whoever’s trying to kill them. Frank’s colleagues include Joe (Morgan Freeman), who spends his days checking out women in a retirement home, and Victoria (Helen Mirren), who lives a quiet life when she isn’t taking contract jobs on the side. Another former co-worker is Marvin (John Malkovich), who joins the crew as well but his psychological issues (caused by taking LSD for eleven years) sometimes interfere with his ability to get the job done.

The actors in “Red” seem to be having a great time. Malkovich, for one, gives a delightfully insane performance that steals the show but the other actors do just fine. There’s also the novelty factor in seeing high-caliber performers like Helen Mirren violently killing people and smiling courteously about it — but sometimes a novelty wears out too quickly. Some of the violent sequences showcasing Victoria’s abilities go on for too long.

Like “Ocean’s Eleven,” the plot isn’t as great as it could be considering the actors involved.  Everything ultimately leads to a bizarre conspiracy that involves a defense contractor trying to manipulate the political system. However, “Red” isn’t about logic or a strong plot. It’s about a strong group of actors coming together and having fun in a light fluffy action-comedy.

—–

Willis plays Frank Moses, a former CIA analyst who was secretly the nation’s most kickass black ops agent. His need for secrecy throughout his professional career has left him with no friends and no one with whom to keep the home fires burning. But he does have a long-distance telephone flirtation with the government payroll clerk (Mary-Louise Parker) who handles his pension check, and when an army of machine-gun-toting killers comes to wipe him out at his placid suburban home, he hits the road to kidnap her by surprise.

The reason is that whoever is out to kill him is likely gunning for her as well, an assumption that proves true almost immediately and forces the pair to further hopscotch the country as Willis rounds up his three closest former RED (Retired, Extremely Dangerous) associates – a crack trio of eccentric agents played with complete joy by Morgan Freeman, Helen Mirren and especially a priceless John Malkovich – to figure out why someone’s out to kill them, and who’s behind the list of a dozen deaths that are being dispatched in quick fashion by agents led by Julian McMahon.

“RED” is adapted by Jon and Erich Hoeber from a graphic novel by Warren Ellis and Cully Hamner, and continues the tradition set by “Watchmen” of a comic book that’s clearly aimed at adults – at least, since the heroes are all retired people and none of the leads is under 50. But unlike the pretentious and damn near unwatchable film version of “Watchmen,” this movie is guaranteed fun even for teens willing to overlook the actors’ ages and enjoy four pros at the top of their game.

What’s especially gratifying about this film is the fact that it does find a way to give its stars a chance to have a hellacious amount of fun, especially with Mirren and Freeman getting to break free from their usual stately style of characters. Between this film and “Secretariat,” Malkovich continues the major second career wave he launched with his hilarious turn in 2008’s Coen Brothers triumph “Burn After Reading.”

The fun extends to performances by supporting players like Parker, who carries over the sexy-funny charm she’s honed to a fine point in “Weeds.” Brian Cox and especially Richard Dreyfuss – in easily his first good role in the 15 years since “Mr. Holland’s Opus” – burst off the screen with humorous pizazz.

And Willis is back doing what he does best, taking viewers on the kind of ride that will make them remember why they fell in love with him in the first place in “Moonlighting” and “Die Hard.” There’s no one else in Hollywood who’s able to mix superb comic timing with intense action scenes as well as him, and he owns this role from the first moment he’s onscreen.

Director Robert Schwentke (“Flightplan,” “The Time Traveler’s Wife”) ties it all together with a surprising zest that was missing from his previous films. Serving up crisp action, fun multi-dimensional characters, ace performances and non-stop twists with funny dialogue, he makes “Red” perhaps the best pure-fun movie of the year.

So what’s left for those of us looking for things like stirring heroism, rousing action, and solid family-friendly entertainment? If you had to pick five films appearing between now and the end of the year that look decent enough to take a chance on, what would they be? Here’s my shortlist, sorted by release date:

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Red (October 15)

A blissfully silly, cartoonishly hyper-violent trailer. A formidable array of talent seeming to have the time of their lives as they chew up the scenery, with normally stately and self-serious Oscar-winners like Helen Mirren and Morgan Freeman hamming it up next to Bruce Willis and John Malkovich. A premise that sounds something like Spy Kids for adults. Sounds good to me.

Word has it that this movie took pains to make itself more comedic than its DC comic source material, and after a year filled with worries about unemployment and the economy, with audiences looking for some mental relief and escape, that might be just what the doctor ordered. I hope the film lives up to the promise and tone of the trailer.

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Unstoppable (November 12)

Speed on a train, and the trailer makes it look as if they’ve pulled it off. With slick action maestro Tony Scott handling the directorial duties, this might do for the action/disaster genre what The Expendables recently did for 1980s he-man action fare.

Denzel is arguably our greatest surviving star, with John Wayne’s talent for holding up pictures with the sheer weight of his presence and gravitas. Chris Pine has emerged as the best of a younger generation of pretty boys trying to make the leap upward to Real Man status. Hot concept, good chemistry — let’s just pray that the dreaded Shaky Cam doesn’t ruin things.

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Faster (November 26)

The Rock abandons his tooth-fairy phase and dives into the sort of gritty revenge flick that used to be powered by guys like Charles Bronson. Hope springs eternal that Hollywood can still occasionally produce a satisfying movie for men as counterprogramming to (in this case) Disney’s Tangled, Christina Aguilera’s Burlesque, and Edward Zwick’s Love and Other Drugs.

Incidentally, I went to school with George Tillman Jr., the director of the film. He’s a good guy who’s helmed life-affirming pictures such as Soul Food (1997) and Men of Honor (2000), and it’s nice to see him recently back in the directorial saddle after a break of some nine years (in which he, among other things, produced the Barbershop series). In an interview a few years back, Tillman stated the clichéd opinion that, “We as filmmakers need to focus less on blow-em-up action flicks and focus more on personal films that can both entertain and educate.” Here’s hoping that Faster is big on the former and mercifully unpretentious about the latter.

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The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (December 10)

I liked the first Narnia film very much, but found the second so unwatchably bad and painfully episodic that I turned it off in disgust halfway through. It was strange to see Disney dump Narnia like a hot potato after that debacle — Patrick Goldstein of the Los Angeles Times, one of Big Hollywood’s favorite whipping boys, gives a good rundown of what happened here.

But with Fox picking it up and giving it a nice Christmas push (and with a true, humane artist like Michael Apted directing), prospects look good for the third film to resemble the first more than the second. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is also widely considered to be the finest book in the series, so it has that going for it.

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Tron: Legacy (December 17)

The trailer for this one had all of the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, as memories came roaring back of watching the original Tron (1982) endlessly on cable as a kid in between bouts of writing crude programs on a Commodore 64. Along with other early 1980s movies like WarGames (1983), this film instilled a fascination for computers into a whole generation of teen boys, and all around us today we’re still seeing the results of that early mass exposure.

The previews promise the return of both Jeff Bridges and Bruce Boxleitner, the portrayal of a sincere and healthy father-son relationship, plenty of eye candy (both of the techno and hot-babe varieties), and lots of action scenes powered by state-of-the-art effects, clever compositions, and NO SHAKY CAM! Man, I hope they knock this one out of the park. (As an aside, Bruce Boxleitner is a huge Robert E. Howard fan, always a sign of discernment.)

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So c’mon all of you Saturday morning, For Conservative Movie Lover blowhards: give us your own Top 5 must-see Fall-Winter 2010 pictures in the comments section below (if you need a master list of possibilities to work from, go here and scroll through the upcoming releases for October, November, and December).

Author’s Note: After fifty straight weeks of For Conservative Movie Lovers appearing every Saturday, a combination of real-life obligations and general burnout has me needing to relax the pace a bit. Going forward, expect gaps of one or more Saturdays in between each batch of FCML essays, with me filling in those gaps with lighter (and hopefully less research intensive) posts on other subjects.

Sylverster Stallone’s glorious throwback to the brawny 80s is also about something, and it’s not Bourne-ian self-discovery. It’s about something that actually matters. And in this age of nihilism when believing in anything bigger than self is considered old-fashioned, unsophisticated and naïve, that’s both refreshing and important.  Mickey Rourke, who has a small but showy supporting role as the proprietor of the tattoo parlor that serves as the Expendables’ hangout, explains it with a single word. I won’t spoil anything, but without this scene, this important turning point, “The Expendables” wouldn’t be half the movie it is. 

Stallone plays Barney Ross (probably not his real name), the leader of a band of American mercenaries who, along with Christmas (Jason Statham), Gunner (Dolph Lundgren), Yang (Jet Li), Toll (Randy Couture), and Caesar (Terry Crews), is willing to go most anywhere and kill most any bad guy for a price. The story opens with a well-crafted action sequence involving Somalia pirates that not only establishes how deadly competent our guys are, but also that they’re not cold-blooded killers.  These are men with a moral code and one of their own breaking that code will be the root cause of deadly complications and a couple over the top action sequences to come. 

The plot gets a nudge courtesy of a self-referential Meeting of The Titans. Ever in search of a job, Barney meets with “Church” (Bruce Willis), a CIA spook in need of some housecleaning that won’t make headlines and Arnold Schwarzenegger, a long-time rival. Cinematically this is far from a great scene, but Stallone the director isn’t looking to please the American Film Institute and the early morning packed house I saw this with buzzed to life during every satisfying moment. 

The mission is to go to South America to rid the world of a Castro-like dictator who’s made a deal with the devil in the form of an ex-CIA baddie played to the hilt by The Mighty Eric Roberts. And what irony that “Eat Pray Love,” starring the less-talented and charismatic Roberts opened the same day.  Yes, this weekend it’s Roberts vs. Roberts – Men Who Do vs. Women Who New Age. 

Though getting on in years (Stallone is 64), these are still formidable men, experienced enough to know how the world works and that wringing your hands over the nuance of it all is just an excuse for cowardly inaction. They also understand that when a tin-pot dictator brutalizes the self-determination out of his own people, his being in favor of national health care doesn’t make that okay. These are also men who worry about their own skin. No paycheck is worth dying for. But loyalty to one another is, and sometimes they can even be shamed into action — a likely suicide mission — by the bravery of one woman (Giselle Itie) who’s willing to stand for something.  But these aren’t men who talk a whole lot, and when they do it’s usually in the form of affectionate crowd-pleasing insults that might not move the plot or add character dimension, but once again Stallone (who co-wrote the screenplay with Dave Callahan) knows his audience.   

Satisfying is probably the best way to describe this labor of love conjured up by a superstar who sat in the direct-to-DVD bin for almost a decade waiting for America to come to its collective senses and figure out how much we missed him and his kind of action filmmaking.. There’s also a kind of validation that comes with the price of admission, especially for those of us who couldn’t figure out why in the hell anyone would call metro-sexuals angsting over calling evil what it is and apologizing for America an action movie. 

“The Expendables” proves us right. 

Matt Damon sucks and the eighties freaking ruled.