Commando

Commando / 1985
90 minutes
dir: Mark L. Lester
screenplay: Stephen E. de Souza, Jeph Loeb
starring: Arnold Schwarzeneggar, Rae Dawn Chong, Alyssa Milano, Dan Hedaya, Vernon Wells

Is Commando too easy a choice? Probably. Yes. Absolutely. This and Quiet Cool were sort of what this site was made for. Unfortunately, there comes a point where there’s not much more you can say about insane freakshow action movies; there are clichés and motifs that I’ll always be amused by, but sometimes just aren’t really worth thinking about.

Fortunately, that point definitely cannot be reached without first talking about Commando, one of the most blowingupingest films I’ve ever seen. The unreasonable death toll it racks up over its hour-and-a-half running time is distinctly aided by the fact that someone is killed by knife, gun, explosion, or the mere force of Arnold Schwarzeneggar’s rippling brow in nearly every scene. And perhaps even more unreasonable is this shot of Arnold feeding a baby deer with a pre-teen Alyssa Milano from the opening credits.

Most unreasonable.

Preceding the credits, though, is a sequence in which three guys bite it by the hand of Cooke (played by Bill Duke, a recognizable character actor, Arnold’s co-star in Predator and director of Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit), but the first two murders don’t matter at all and we soon learn that the third was a sham. That the leathery, mustachioéd, and erotically chainmailéd Bennett is not only still alive but involved in the kidnapping of Alyssa Milano in order to coerce Arnold’s character John Matrix to do EVIL DEEDS provides no particular shock to the viewer. What does it matter that Bennett is still alive? Why does he look like a living cartoon? Is he really supposed to be the villain? That’s insane!

It’s pretty much impossible to distinguish what’s going on in the beginning of Commando, even as the first ten minutes are explained away with about thirty seconds of dialogue: three of men from retired Colonel Matrix’s unit have been killed, and John may be next! But it’s also pretty much impossible to care. The first deaths are meant to provide credibility to the idea that Matrix is in danger, but obviously he isn’t. So you gloss over that shit, and continue to marvel at the shameless violence. Little Jenny’s been abducted by terrorist mercenaries working for a Latin American warlord? Whatever man, I’m not worried, Arnold just broke that weird-looking bad guy’s neck on an airplane, jumped out of the moving plane’s wheel well into a swamp, then set his watch so he knows just how much time he has to kick ass.

Yep, everything's gonna be fine.

In his quest to discover where Jenny has been taken, he kidnaps Rae Dawn Chong, beats up a bunch of cops, throws squirrely henchman Sully off a cliff, impales Cooke – in a scene that includes boobs for some reason – and breaks into an army surplus store and steals a frightening amount of heavy weaponry and ammunition. Then he jacks a sea plane that Rae Dawn Chong can fly for some reason, and she takes them to Dan Hedaya’s Island Stronghold, everyone’s favorite family-friendly terrorist encampment theme park. Hedaya’s dictator character had expected Matrix to be in Val Verde – a vaguely Latin American country that links Commando with Die Hard 2 and Predator; all the movies were produced by Joel Silver, and Die Hard and its first sequel were also written by Stephen E. de Souza – where he was supposed to assassinate its U.S.-installed democratic leader in return for Jenny’s freedom, so obviously he’s totally pissed when Matrix shows up and annihilates his scenic resort getaway in an incredible ten-minute sequence that results in the demise of about 150 nameless drones.

You should know that this last bit, the part in which waves and waves of ethnic-looking evildoers are wasted at the hands of John Matrix, one-man army, is the best scene in the movie, the one you’re most likely to remember afterwards because it’s so beautifully senseless and excessive, a classic display of Arnold-in-action. The second best is Matrix’s sexy final showdown with a visibly aroused Bennett, which includes some great knife-fighting/wrestling/foreplay and a rather spectacular death-by-pipe-through-the-chest.

"Let off some steam, Bennett." That's what Arnold says here. That's a line in the movie.

You should also know that those political aspects of the plot are an absolute failure. Again, it’s supposed to help us believe what an honorable soldier and upstanding human being Matrix is, but that was a forgone conclusion as soon as you saw Arnold’s face on the poster. Besides, there’s no way that the shooting script of Commando was more than thirty pages, unless every gun sound, explosion, and groaning death had its own line on the page:

MATRIX
TCHTCHTCHTCHTCHCLICKPHEWWWWWWWWWWWARRRGGGGHGHGHGHG

HENCHMAN
AHHHHHHHHEEEIIWWWWWWWWWUHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

It’s the thinnest strand of plot that connects those big-action setpieces. This is a movie I’ve seen at least twenty times, and I still had to look up why Matrix was involved with all these bad dudes in the first place. While Commando is the action movie, the one people are talking about, whether they know it or not, when they complain that action movies are mindless and too violent, it lacks the hook that pushed the other best 1980s-era examples of the genre to franchise territory. I’m thinking Lethal Weapon, First Blood, The Terminator, Die Hard, RoboCop, Predator – movies that weren’t just big, but big three or four times over through two more decades.

You don’t need to see what happens with Murtaugh and Riggs after they sit down for Christmas dinner, but you kinda want to. John Matrix, however, is a blank slate, and Commando just sort of happens, and it happens fast, which is a good thing. If it lasted even four or five minutes more, it’d be too long – and that’s said with the knowledge that that extra time would likely just allow Matrix to add to the death toll and maybe cause a cool explosion. Really, there’s an entire look-how-stealthy-Arnold-can-be scene that could be cut out; it’d shave off four minutes, and no one dies in it, anyway.

Rae Dawn Chong was also skeptical about keeping the scene in which no one dies.

A sequel to Commando was written by de Souza (and, supposedly, Frank Darabont), but was turned down by Schwarzeneggar. Commando 2 eventually became Die Hard, and lo, all was right with the world. Where Colonel John Matrix and Adorable Daughter Jenny and Rae Dawn Chong go after they fly away from the homicidal slaughter (not to mention mindfuck of a diplomatic catastrophe) wrought by the vengeful soldier should be of no concern. And with his horrifically grand and devastating mission accomplished, it’s actually pretty easy to say goodbye.

Cool Dog

Cool Dog / 2010
88 minutes
dir: Danny Lerner
screenplay: Danny Lerner, Les Weldon
starring: Michael Paré, Jackson Pace, Christa Campbell

Cool Dog is a children’s movie, but not the good kind, like you want, with clever bits that will make parents nod approvingly while the kids giggle. It’s the sort of children’s movie that ruins the day of any adults in earshot and assumes that their children are heinously, criminally stupid. It’s like the proverbial car wreck you can’t look away from, but if that car wreck was really irritating and you didn’t mind looking away to nap for a bit, which I can only imagine is a necessary step for viewing Cool Dog to completion.

The titular “cool dog” is named Rainy, and you learn quickly just how cool he is as he delivers some mail, rings the old town bell to tell people who are already awake that they’re probably late for something important, is fawned over by black people, and winks at the camera two times in the first three minutes. He also saves a little girl’s life, but it doesn’t really matter. Cool Dog is essentially just a series of events held together by the premise that Rainy is the greatest dog EVER, and that his human overlords are fucking morons. The thin plot runs like so: little Jimmy’s dad gets a vague promotion from the insurance company he works for, the family has to move from silly little Eagle Rock, Louisiana to FUCKIN’ NEW YORK CITY!, but they can’t take Rainy because “the apartment the company’s paying for doesn’t allow pets,” so they leave Rainy at “the fairgrounds,” then Rainy escapes and finds the family in New York, where there is trouble because of the whole thing from before about pets, but then Rainy uncovers an illegal exotic animal smuggling ring run by the building’s landlords.

Cool dog will now say grace.

Now if you were to say that, except maybe for the animal smugglers, this doesn’t all sound so bad, just pretty standard and dull, you obviously have not yet watched Cool Dog. To see Cool Dog is the only way to truly understand Cool Dog. If you’re only reading this, you are missing an incredible opportunity to be baffled by its script, confounded by any number of the odd choices made by its stars, and pushed to the brink of self-immolation by the editing and direction.

Think about the things you really value in the movies you love, both good and bad. A great movie will show you layered characters inhabiting a fully-realized world and engaged in a story that resonates with you on multiple levels. It would be insane to say that Cool Dog ever aspired to be anything like “a great movie,” and if director and co-writer Danny Lerner – the man behind the lens of three movies about shark attacks, two movies about dogs, and a 2009 Dolph Lundgren vehicle, natch – told me himself that it did, I would laugh in his face. But it lacks even the fun elements that make the I-can’t-believe-this-movie-even-exists type movie so great. In fact, it even takes one of my favorite bad-movie tropes, the stilted and nonsensical acting of already crummy dialogue, and makes it flat-out annoying. It’s just one sad looking but brilliant German shepherd navigating a world run by absolute fools, black-toothed animal rapists, and really insensitive parents.

I mean it literally when I say he navigates it. After escaping from the aforementioned animal raping caretaker of “the fairgrounds” – whoever gave that actor the instruction to play up how much he loves to have sex with barnyard animals and seem especially wary of Jimmy’s merely platonic love for his dog really nailed it – Rainy finds his way to the safety of a moving train, whereupon he enters the 1930s and encounters some lovely boxcar hobos.

Cool dog is not impressed.

The movie takes a turn now when something incredible happens: Rainy helps one of the bums with a game of checkers by grasping one of the pieces in his paw and winning it. Then he drives the train. And he boards a freighter coming up the East River. And he drives that, too. And now he’s roaming New York City. And now’s on the subway. And now he’s in Harlem’s 125th Street station, foiling a mugging. And then he takes down a trio of nogoodniks messing with a homeless man’s cart late at night in a park. And then I guess he sleeps, but then he takes off in the morning, once again making a significant impact on a person’s life only to run away in search of another heroic thrill.

I won’t even bother running down the rest of the list of fucking crazy things the dog does. Actually one more: Rainy steals and drives a car in a brief scene that serves no purpose and results in nothing, save for a shot of the dog suddenly wearing sunglasses. So anyway, Rainy and Jimmy are obviously reunited, but here a problem arises: there are still forty minutes left in the movie. So a brand new plot comes up, that animal smuggling business from earlier. Turns out the landlords of this building, a comically mismatched skinny dork and his gruesome fat wife, are storing exotic creatures (mostly parrots and kangaroos, of course) in the building’s basement. There’s a piano down there, too, and in celebration of the kangaroo’s newfound freedom by Rainy’s paws, Rainy plays a little waltz.

Cool dog is not taking requests.

A good question to ask at this point, without pausing the movie, mind you, because it doesn’t matter, is, “Why would Jimmy’s dad’s insurance firm move this family into a building that looks very classy on the outside but is apparently a hellhole owned by these two monstrous criminals?” And of course the answer, as cackled by the intrepid Danny Lerner as he bathes in his (rented) swimming pool full of nickels, is, “Kids are so stupid, they don’t care! They’ll never notice!”

Now, I know not every movie for children can have be Pixar-level metaphorical or have Disney-quality artistry or feature adults as driven and coherent as Gordon Bombay in The Mighty Ducks and star kids as authentic and I-want-to-be-friends-with-those-guys fun as The Sandlot, but Cool Dog is just such a fucking mess. If I was a parent and my child made me watch Cool Dog, I would be intensely displeased with that kid for days to come. And worse yet, if my child honestly enjoyed Cool Dog, I would be overcome with shame, and forced to reevaluate my approach to parenting. Off in the distance, I can hear Lerner shout, “What do you care? It’s not even for you!” That’s fair, and true. And sure, some kids are so stupid, but I think it’s dangerous to cater to the assumption that children have a six-second attention span by making a disingenuous trash heap like Cool Dog, a film in which the dog is the only decent actor, and honestly, even he’s not so great. Is this movie the exception or the rule? There has to be something in between your big-time blockbuster family movies, but does it have to be this?

Cool dog makes good sandwich.

In the end, the landlords, who tried to kidnap Jimmy and ship him to Mexico by freighter after he stumbled upon their secret parrot-ridden basement, are arrested. But wait! Rainy died! An incredible twist! So many weak fake tears. (No fewer than six adult men try their hand at poor stage-crying in Cool Dog.) A hero’s death, for sure, fully validating his – oh, nevermind, he’s alive, and everyone’s happy now. Rainy gets the key to the city, and the last line of the movie comes from Jimmy’s step-mom (played by a woman who has no comprehension of how to mimic a Southern accent and looks like Yasmin Bleeth stuffed her face full of rigid plastic shards): “That’s my dog. Rainy.” Finally, the cold and mostly unnecessary stepmother character warms her heart just enough to assert ownership over an animal that she’d been indifferent towards for the majority of the movie. Man, this thing sure is a waste of – holy shit Cool Dog has its own theme song!?

Striking Distance

Striking Distance / 1993
102 minutes
dir: Rowdy Herrington
screenplay: Rowdy Herrington, Marty Kaplan
starring: Bruce Willis, Sarah Jessica Parker, Tom Sizemore, Dennis Farina

In the way that Quiet Cool and Cobra are representative of everything that is great about cheesy, insane action movies, 1993’s Striking Distance is a symbol of everything not great. First off, it’s too long at OVER 100 MINUTES. It’s boring, and it’s really, really dumb in a totally boring way. There are a few good chases, but most of them happen on boats, so they’re not even that good, because boats obviously suck.

I watched this movie maybe nine months ago, but I’m not sure if it’s become hazier in my memory since then, or if I’ve just come to really understand everything I didn’t like about it. Either way, here’s how it all gets started: Bruce Willis plays Pittsburgh detective Tom Hardy and it’s just about time for the policeman’s ball when suddenly there’s a serial strangler on the loose, so that shit gets postponed so every officer in the city can chase the guy around for a few hours, but then he kills Bruce Willis’ dad and gets away, but then a guy is arrested who definitely doesn’t look like a serial strangler and (duh) Bruce Willis doesn’t believe they caught the real serial strangler, but Bruce Willis hardly has any time to even think about that because his mildly retarded police officer cousin Jimmy is about to jump off a bridge because he doesn’t want to go to prison for being a bad cop that beat the shit out of a suspect. Relevant to this scene and the character: Tom Hardy testified against Cousin Jimmy in court, because he’s serious about being a cop, and no mortal man is above that, goddammit.

So then Cousin Jimmy jumps and the skies TEAR OPEN to let down some totally dramatic and real-looking rain, and the whole situation really gets to Bruce Willis and makes him cry pretty hard.

Fast forward two years into the future and Bruce Willis has been demoted to the ever-so-lowly rank of BOAT COP because he went on the news after Cousin Jimmy’s death to say he thought the real strangler was a cop, which is definitely frowned upon in the cop community, even though they’re otherwise pretty forgiving and open-minded. Anyway, turns out Bruce Willis is actually a pretty shitty BOAT COP with a mess of self-esteem, authority, and hygiene issues.

An hour and a half later, it turns out Cousin Jimmy didn’t die, and he was the real strangler, and Bruce Willis tasers him in the mouth. Whatever.

Sorry nerds, BOAT COPS on patrol.

The number-one thing you need to remember while watching Striking Distance is that all cops are related and they’re also all idiots that ignore crucial aspects of the job like “evidence” and “investigation” and “morality.” You’ll be reminded, consistently, of how much Dennis Farina rules, confused just as consistently about how Tom Sizemore could have ever been popular, and astounded by the talents of Sarah Jessica Parker. Parker plays Bruce’s by-the-book, no-nonsense, BOAT COP partner Jo Christman – and also she’s a woman! It’s a pretty wild twist, so take a moment to wrap your head around that one. (Actually, she turns out to be a state trooper assigned to follow him for some reason. But the woman thing is way more surprising.)

Of course, over time and using absolutely concrete “proof” that he’s “acquired,” Bruce Willis convinces Sarah Jessica Parker that he’s right about that whole thing that happened way back whenever. And when more stranglings happen following the old killer’s M.O., well what else could you need to know?

Obviously none of that matters. I feel like I’m just filling space here, which I guess is in line with the movie itself. Nothing that happens during Striking Distance ever feels necessary to the plot or to the viewer. All the reasons we watch movies, for entertainment, for art, to be challenged, to be wowed, to just relax and enjoy something new – Striking Distance has none of that. Instead there’s a scene where Tom and Jo sidle up next to a suspicious barge (duh) and decide to check it out and I’m pretty sure Bruce Willis bonks some dude in the head. An ex-girlfriend of Tom’s is murdered, which is confusing, because who is this guy and since when are his ex-girlfriends of any relevance? Oh, and there’s another policeman’s ball – this one goes off without a hitch, THANK GOD – but everybody’s still mad for what Bruce Willis did all those two years ago and he’s like, “Come on, you guys, come on, get over it already.”

He said, smoldering.

In case you were wondering, Bruce Willis does sleep with Sarah Jessica Parker, but she initiates it, because she’s totally drawn to vulnerable sad-sack alcoholics – Oh, I didn’t mention disgraced BOAT COP Tom Hardy’s back-and-forth struggle with the sauce? Must’ve slipped my mind, which is odd since it’s such an important part of the story. – and he resists at first (Almost certainly an actual quote: “If we bang, it’ll definitely blow your mind, because I let out all my issues when I bang so it gets pretty real, and I’m sorry, I just don’t think you’re ready for that sort of bang, babe.”) but then he gives in because Jo is just such a warm, charming, and believable character. What follows is a really uncomfortable bullshit sex scene featuring an A-list action star and a former child actor, which must have sounded like pure gold on the page, shoehorned into the movie in a desperate attempt to bring some romance or steaminess or allure to a pile of hot garbage that had no pulse to begin with.

Oh yeah and their vigorous and passionate bone-session is being watched by Cousin Jimmy.

Yeah, that's so sexy, just like that, yeah, that's hot, yeah, I

Bruce Willis broke into Hollywood in 1988 as with Die Hard – which I love, natch – but he didn’t really do anything else that was well-received critically until Pulp Fiction in 1994. In that time he did about a dozen other movies, including the first Die Hard sequel, two Look Who’s Talking movies, a horrible adaptation of Tom Wolfe’s The Bonfire of the Vanities, Hudson Hawk, North, The Last Boy Scout (which rules in theory but doesn’t come through), and Color of Night, an erotic thriller pretty much only remembered for its sex and nudity.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: Bruce Willis actually sucks, but he usually gets a pass because he’s done about ten or twelve especially great movies in the last twenty-five years. That not a very promising ratio, but enjoyable favorites like Pulp Fiction and Sin City and The Fifth Element ultimately tend to cancel out timewasters like Hudson Hawk and Bandits and The Jackal. Is Bruce Willis a cool enough guy or a charismatic enough actor to save a D.O.A. piece of shit that tries to be way more than it is, such as Striking Distance? No, he’s not. Wasn’t it fucking awesome when he murdered those asshole Germans in Die Hard? Yes, yes, a million times yes.

Just end it already.