Sucker Punch

April 2, 2012

Just over a year ago, I found myself in the movie theater as I have on many Thursday nights.

We were nestled snugly in our seats at the Tygart Valley Cinemas, the place that some of us would consider our stomping grounds. This was back when tickets for midnight premieres cost only $6, before the bastards that run the place went on a witch hunt and raised the ticket prices 3 different times.

On that night, I only wasted $6 of my hard earned money.

With my knowledge of director Zack Snyder’s past movies (300, Watchmen, the 2004 remake of Romero’s classic Dawn of the Dead), I figured I was in for quite a treat. The previews showed an immense spectacle that would take place on the screen, one with very little plot and tons of dragons, helicopters, robot Nazis (robotzis?) and 20-foot stone samurai fighting a blond schoolgirl in booty shorts.

And that’s exactly what I was delivered: terrible writing, bad acting, a horrendous plot that involved whores, fat mayors and greasy guido scoundrels, and a giant letdown all around.

My hatred for Sucker Punch started about half way through, when I realized that I had been lied to and deceived. By whom?


First off, the acting and writing were terrible, which is usually something I can overlook. After all, I am a big Nicolas Cage fan. But this was different. I have the feeling that someone put pen to paper and, after hours of feverish scrawling, stepped back with a sense of pride and took the time to call all his friends about his “crackerjack script.”

I hope it didn’t happen, but I bet it did.

So, Zack Snyder thought “Hey. I did a movie that was just a bunch of sweaty guys kicking ass. Let’s do the same, but make it girls that are in a mental hospital, except they think the mental hospital is a bordello, and they really want to escape it, so they have to retrieve magical items and go into a trance when they dance, but the trance dancing looks like intense scenes of dragon, helicopter, Nazi robot pants-shitting awesomeness! That’ll be awesome!”

No, Zack. No, it wasn’t.

I mean, I’m all for a bunch of girls keeping ass. I’m not the most enthusiastic dinner at the sausage fest. I prefer the taco bar, if you catch my drift.

But, that just doesn’t work in this one. Maybe good writing, a cohesive plot or toned-down special effects would have done the job.

The worst thing is… a few months later, I was subjected to the entire cinematic abortion again, something no one should have to withstand.

Seriously. Watching it the first time was enough to make me lose faith in the cinema. Watching a second time made me want to take my own life.

I’d rather see Crank 2 ten times. At least then, I wouldn’t want to kill myself.





This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks to Sam Jones for this one.

I hate you. I hate you as much as I hated this movie.

There. I said it. That’s what you get for making me relive that.

Now I’ve gone and lost all will to live again. Goodbye, cruel blogosphere.


Truly ghjr


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