If you were alive in the 1990s, chances are you, at least one time in your life, turned on your TV to watch Tim Allen grunt like a gorilla as he played with power tools.
Home Improvement was born out of Allen’s stand-up schtick in which he poked fun at men who begin playing with power tools only to feel surges of testosterone that cause them to regress into primates. The schtick evolved into a show in which Tim would work on his home improvement television show by day then be a father at night.
I’m very late to the Last Man Standing party, mainly because I believe that by and large, the sitcom formula, though not technically dead, is certainly on life support. Cheesy jokes, holding back on swears, formulaic plots, cookie cutter characters – all out the window ever since cable TV started producing their own television shows.
However, I noticed it was on Netflix the other day and feeling nostalgic for my youth in which Tim “the Tool Man” Taylor was one of celebrity father figures my TV offered me, I checked out and yeah, I have to admit, as cheesy as it is, it offered me an occasional laugh or two.
Allen has recycled his gorilla grunting tool man schtick into the form of Mike Baxter, an executive of sorts at “Outdoor Man,” a large Bass Pro Shop/Cabella’s type sporting goods store.
By day, Mike sells crossbows, knives, and hunting equipment, complaining about how unmanly men have got all the while. By night, he reconciles his macho tendencies with the fact that he is outnumbered in his own home by his wife (Nancy Travis) and three daughters with no one but his infant grandson Boyd to turn to. At times, he finds allies in the form of his hard ass boss Ed (Hector Elizondo) and his daughter’s boyfriend Kyle.
Gorilla grunts have been traded in for complaints about millennial hipsterism. Baxter is sort of a less offensive Archie Bunker-esque character, unabashedly unapologetic with his conservative views yet twist his arm enough and he might try to see everything from the millennial hipster’s point of view.
An episode in the first season sums up the character. When his company’s baseball team is forced to go co-ed (let females play), Mike is torn between his belief that men should be allowed to have their own time when they can grunt, snort, burp, drink beer and tell dirty jokes without worrying about offending women.
Co-ed sports are lose-lose for men as Baxter explains that if a man beats a woman at baseball he’s considered a bully, but if he loses to a woman he’s considered an embarrassment.
On the other hand, as a father of three girls, he dislikes the idea that someone might tell his daughters they can’t do something. Ultimately, he recruits his most tomboyish daughter for a spot on the team and she crushes all the dudes.
Mike, who rants regularly on in videos on his store’s website, sums up a feeling that a lot of men think but few are willing to say out loud, “I want a world where women can do everything a man can do…and just don’t want to.”
Tim Taylor has grown up and morphed into Mike and Mike, like many of us modern men, suffer from an identity crisis. Women have no idea what they want us to be anymore and we’re just as equally clueless.
But one thing’s for sure – we men need crossbows, and beer, and hunting equipment, and on occasion, the ability to burp and drink beer and tell obscene jokes without being judged by the women folk.
We’re just too evolved now to tell the womenfolk that they can’t join in on the outdoor crossbow hunting trips, but they’d better start burping and drinking beer and telling obscene jokes if they want to keep up.
File under – “Women Have the Right to Act Like Men Now…But Why Would They Want To?”
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Available on Netflix. Good show for when you need something not too complicated to watch for twenty minutes before you fall asleep.
Season 11 just dropped on Netflix and Season 12 is underway on FXX.
Twelve seasons for a comedy show. That’s got to be a record. I feel like I just started watching this show yesterday. In a way, I feel like I grew up with these guys a bit. I’m about their age, give or take a year or two. And I guess we were all adults when it started but still, how time flies.
In Season 11, the gang parodies 1980s ski slope movies (a genre that sadly, or perhaps thankfully, lived and died by the end of that decade). They catch a leprechaun, accidentally kidnap people with a St. Patrick’s Day themed party bus, litigate the trial of the century against the disturbingly inbred McPoyle clan and go to hell after being trapped inside a cruise ship’s boat jail.
They can keep making this show forever as far as I’m concerned. Dennis, Dee, Charlie and Mac are the biggest group of scumbag scammers around and they will no doubt keep failing at their attempts to make a quick, dishonest buck so they might as well keep those seasons coming.
Advisor Zhen and Captain Yuen laughed…and laughed…and laughed. They were doubled over with tears in their eyes.
“Undead men,” the advisor said.
“Coming to eat the Emperor’s brain!” the captain added.
General Tsang stood silently, waiting for the guffaws to dissipate.
“Oh,” Advisor Zhen said as he wiped the tears away from his eyes. “I’m sorry, general. This sounds like a serious matter. Tell me who informed you of this impending attack again.”
“I have already told you,” the general said.
“No,” the advisor said as he put a hand up to his ear. “Please. I didn’t hear you the first time.”
The general sighed. “The ghost of the Nineteenth Infallible Master of the Clan of the Sacred Yet Inscrutable Tiger Claw.”
Advisor Zhen and Captain Yuen doubled over again. “The ghost…of the…BAH HA HA HA HA!”
General Tsang’s blood boiled. He lost his cool. “You know damn well this is all true. You have ignored my warnings about Dragonhand for twenty years and now your incompetence will cost this land greatly!”
The advisor’s mood changed for the worse. “Watch your tone, General.”
“Our previous Emperor was a good man,” the General said. “But he will was weak and he relied on you to take care of everything. For decades, I looked the other way as you plundered the countryside with your outrageous taxes, most of which go directly into your pocket. I have never interfered with your schemes, scams, and tricks and yet you have interfered with my position time and time again. This is all your fault, Zhen.”
“My fault?” Advisor Zhen said. “How exactly have you arrived at such an absurd conclusion?”
“Years ago, I proposed that the Imperial Army take Dragonhand on directly,” the general said. “You got in the way. You whispered in the previous Emperor’s ear and convinced him to order me to stand down.”
“That was the proper course of action then as it is now,” the advisor said.
“Bah,” the general said. “All that fat is choking your brain.”
The advisor slammed his fist down on the armrest of the Dragon Throne. “We do not get involved in matters of kung fu!”
“There are no matter of kung fu left to get involved in,” General Tsang said. “You sat back and did nothing. Now the last clan has been slaughtered.”
“And good riddance to it!” the advisor said. “The kung fu clans were old relics of a long forgotten era. Filthy drunkards and over zealous ne’er-do-wells who sat around all day practicing their fancy punches.”
“I never knew them to be anything but respectable,” the general said. “They came to the Imperial Army’s aid more times than I can remember.”
“If they actually cared about their country they would have abandoned their nonsensical ways and joined the Imperial Army,” Advisor Zhen said. “Back flips and high kicks are the past. Iron and steel are the future.”
“But…”
“General,” the advisor said. “If Dragonhand’s clan had some sort of falling out with the rest of the clans, what business is it of ours?”
“The Clan of the Terrifyingly Unnatural Brain Bite was never officially recognized as a reputable clan by the other kung fu clans,” the general said. “Dragonhand is a criminal and now that his kung fu opponents have been destroyed, he has set his sights on the Dragon Throne.”
“Then let him come for it,” the advisor said. “This city has survived attacks before.”
“Never from an enemy like this,” General Tsang said. “Dragonhand has eaten the brains of every kung fu master in China and henow wields an unfathomable amount of fighting knowledge.”
“Will you listen to yourself?” Advisor Zhen asked. “‘Brain eating.’ Please. The man’s obviously just some kind of psychotic cannibal who spooked a bunch of backward thinking kung fu fighters and sadly, this hysteria has even invaded your mind, General.”
“I know how ridiculous this all sounds,” General Tsang said. “I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself so many times by imploring you to do something low these many years if I didn’t think the situation was critical.”
Advisor Zhen sighed. “Have you ever seen one of these brain eaters in person?”
“No,” General Tsang said.
“Of course you haven’t,” Advisor Zhen said.
“But I have seen heart eaters,” the general said.
Advisor Zhen raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“Vampires,” General Tsang said. “Japan is rife with them. They pose as ordinary humans, no different than you or I but in secret, they consume hearts and harbor an unquenchable thirst for blood. I encountered a group of them in my youth while conducting an espionage mission. I was captured by them. The things they did…the things I saw…I carry those horrific memories with me everywhere I go. I was lucky to escape with my life.”
Advisor Zhen shook his head. “These are the ravings of an opium fiend.”
“If the brain biters are even half as deadly as the heart eaters…”
The advisor cut the general off. “Captain Yuen.”
“Yes?” the captain asked.
“Please bring an end to this tedious conversation,” the advisor said. “As commander of the Imperial Guard, you have the final say in all matters of the Emperor’s security. You’ve heard the general’s concerns about a supposed invasion by a rogue kung fu clan which may or may not, but most likely is not…
“…it is,” the general interrupted.
“It most likely is not comprised of so-called undead brain biters,” the advisor said. “Do you believe any additional precautions are required to ensure the Emperor’s safety?”
Captain Yuen was a rugged yet good looking man in his late thirties. He stroked his chin and thought about the question for a moment, then answered, “No.”
“Come now,” General Tsang said. “Let me dispatch a unit and we will take the Emperor to the mountains, far away from here.”
“General,” Captain Yuen said. “Though I find your stories of brain biters and heart eaters to be incredible, I have always found your reputation to be nothing but credible. I am certain you believe Dragonhand to be a formidable enemy. I am sure he is and any plans he has for insurrection are to be taken seriously. However, there is no place safer for the Emperor to be than the Forbidden City. Our walls are high. Your men are battle tested. My men are rigorously trained.”
The general threw the captain a disgusted look, then gestured to the advisor. “So this pig has gotten to you too?”
Captain Yuen grew furious. “Your place is on the wall and everywhere beyond it. My place is anywhere within the Forbidden City. I will remain in my place, general. I suggest you return to yours.”
“Ungh,” the general grunted.
Advisor Zhen flicked his wrist towards the general, shooing him away. “You heard the man. Ta ta!”
General Tsang pointed a finger at the advisor. “Mark my words, Zhen. When that boy is old enough to understand all of the treacherous crimes you have committed, he will get an earful from me and I swear to you when that day comes, there will be a reckoning.”
Advisor Zhen smiled. “Yes, well…until that day…ta ta.”
General Tsang entered the Emperor’s throne room, a wondrous place where the walls were lined with gold and red columns stretched to the ceiling. He climbed a set of steps and took in the sight of the illustrious Dragon Throne, a magnificent seat adorned with carvings of the legendary fire breathing lizards.
The general waited patiently and did his best to choke down his bile as he observed Advisor Zhen’s rotund posterior parked in a place normally reserved for the country’s leader. To the left and right of the throne stood two stoic members of the Imperial Guard, each clad in traditional blue and white uniforms with red plumes coming out of the tops of their helmets.
Off to the far left stood Captain Yuen, Commander of the Imperial Guard. Tsang and Yuen traded respectful nods.
A boney old farmer in dirty rags groveled before the advisor. He looked as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Meanwhile, the advisor wore green robes sewn from the finest fabric. His neck and fingers were decorated in enough jewelry to feed the old man, his family, his village, and a hundred other villages into perpetuity.
“Please, noble advisor,” the old man said. “The taxes you have imposed…they are too great.”
Two beauties stood near the advisor. One waved a fan towards the fat man’s face while the other periodically plucked grapes and popped them into the chubby bureaucrat’s gob.
“You don’t wish to help your country?” the advisor asked.
“Oh no, sir,” the old man said. “It’s just that…the children. They are wasting away.”
A beauty popped a grape into the advisor’s mouth. It was quickly gobbled. “I see. Then you do not wish to help your Emperor?”
“No,” the farmer said. “It’s not that at all. Please, Advisor Zhen, you must understand the people of my village, they toil in the fields day and night, working themselves to the bone and yet they have nothing to show for it. Your tax collectors take it all and yet they continue to harass us, telling us we owe more.”
“Well then,” Advisor Zhen said between grape chomps. “I suggest that you do as they say and pay them more.”
The frustration on the old farmer’s face was palpable. “But we have no more!”
Advisor Zhen hoisted his heft upward and looked down on the peasant. “Why do you bore me with such lies?”
The farmer was bewildered by the accusation. “Sir?”
“If your life is as difficult as you say it is, then surely you would not have time to assail my ears with your tedious whining,” Advisor Zhen said. “You’d be out foraging for berries or eating dirt before you’d come to me with this nonsense.”
“But we have done that,” the old man said.
Advisor Zhen shooed the farmer away with a flick of his wrist. “Whatever your village’s taxes were before, considered them…doubled.”
The old man clutched his chest. “Sir?”
“Do you want them to be tripled?” Advisor Zhen asked.
The old man shook his head. “No! Please, sir, no.”
The advisor leaned back on the throne and focused on his next grape. “Away with you, wretch. Do not return with such contrived tales of woe again.”
“Yes sir,” the old man said. He bowed, then turned and hurried out of the throne room.
“Now then,” the advisor said as he slapped his hands together and rubbed them, then looked to his beauties. “Who wants to play a game of slap and tickle?”
The beauties giggled. General Tsang cleared his throat to grab the pig’s attention.
“Oh,” Advisor Zhen said. “Someone left a pile of shit in a suit of armor on my doorstep. What is it, Tsang?”
Tsang stepped forward. “If you can take a break from testing the bolts in the Emperor’s throne with your corpulent ass, I need a word.”
I love it when I can watch movies related to a project I’m working on and call it research.
Bruce Lee’s signature film, a super hairy Chuck Norris and a whole helluva lot of kung fu.
BQB here with a review of Way of the Dragon.
I have to be honest. This film is considered to be the quintessential martial arts film but when I look through it via a modern frame of mind then…well, yeah, it kind of stinks.
It’s basically one step above being a high school AV club project. The plot is goofy. In Rome, a mafia don wants a restaurant owned by Uncle Wang and, I guess his relative of some sort, maybe his daughter or some shit I don’t know because it’s hard to understand, so what the hell, we’ll just call her his daughter, Chen Ching Hua (Nora Miao).
Chen’s other uncle from Hong Kong sends a friend, Tang Lung (Bruce Lee), to Rome to help protect the restaurant and beat up some motherfuckers with his kung fu skills.
Throughout the film, there are cheesy jokes aplenty. For example, Tang Lung arrives at the airport and an old lady stares at him, unsure what to make of him. He then orders soup at an airport restaurant but his elderly waitress is confused as to what he wants. He points to soup on the menu a bunch of times, so she brings him like twenty bowls of soup.
Being a gentlemen, Tang Lung eats it all and then throughout the first part of the film it becomes a running joke that he needs to keep asking for a bathroom because he has the soupy shits.
Meanwhile, the don’s top henchman is a flamboyantly gay, scarf clad stereotype, so outlandish in fact that I’d love to get Ken Jeong on the phone just to ask if he based Mr. Chow in The Hangover films on this character.
Blah, blah, blah, there are a lot of jokes, a lot of fights, a lot of squabbling over what is going to happen to the restaurant and then, wham! There’s the big finish in which the don hires American martial artist Colt (aka Chuck Fucking Norris) to take down Tang Lung, because apparently, he really wants that fucking restaurant.
Add to the list of the movie’s plot holes a lack of an explanation as to why this restaurant is so important. The don goes through like nine-hundred henchmen just to get his hands on this joint. Is gold buried under the floor boards? Is it prime real estate that can be sold at a high markup? What the hell is going on here? Oh well. Nobody knows.
And I also digress. This film was Chuck Norris’ big screen debut and holy shit, was he a sight to behold in his youthful, pre-mustache glory. The man had a bear-like mange of chest hair, so luxurious that Bruce tears a hunk out of it during the final fight scene.
The man’s back was even hairy. That shit just wouldn’t fly today. If you want to be on screen then you have to be waxed, but they didn’t care about that shit in the 1970s. Hell, hairiness was a sign of virility. The hairier you were, the more poon you got and let me tell you, by the look of his back, young Chuck Norris was swimming in strange.
Can you believe I once had a girlfriend who complained about my hairy back? Shit. I bet young Chuck Norris didn’t have to put up with uppity broads trying to rub Nair all over his shoulder blades.
I have digressed again. Look, the film is on Netflix so you should check it out. Don’t shit on the film as I have but rather, keep in mind that it was a 1970s flick, made at a time when martial arts films were just getting started. Ignore the cheesiness, the silly jokes, and the terrible English voiceover dubbing.
The final fight scene is intense. Bruce and Chuck never speak to each other but it is clear they are both professionals. They silently taunt one another but they also fight with honor and respect.
Come for the movie. Stay until the end for the epic final showdown between Bruce and Chuck, two titans in all of their glory. Sadly, the world lost Bruce way, way too young, but at least Chuck stuck around long enough to grow a sweet mustache, appear in a shit ton of B movies and become an Internet meme.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Invent a time machine and bring me back to the 1970s, a time when men were men and the only limit to the amount of chicks they could bag was measured by the amount of bear-like fur on their manly chests and backs.
After the master filled the general in on the previous evening’s details, the general sighed in disbelief.
“News of the Clan of the Mystifying Monkey Slap’s demise had made its way to me,” the general said. “But the Clan of the Sacred Yet Inscrutable Tiger Claw is now gone? I never thought I would live to see the day.”
“And yet,” the master said. “Here we are. As we speak, Dragonhand marches north. He’s stronger and more powerful than ever. He wields the Staff of Ages ad he will not stop until the Forbidden City is sacked and the Emperor’s brain is devoured. Surely now Advisor Zhen will listen to reason.”
“Blast that dirty mongrel’s wretched hide,” the general said. “I have warned him about Dragonhand for two decades but he has always refused to take action. The Emperor is as beguiled by him as his father was.”
“You must make him listen to reason,” the master said.
The general nodded. “I will try, but I have always felt that I deserve an honorable place in Heaven for not gutting that pig years ago. He is as thick-headed as he is arrogant.”
General Tsang laid his hands on the stone wall. “Damned brain biters. Do you think they are in league with the Japanese heart eaters?”
“Not that I know of,” the master said. “Though it pains me to think of how the Sacred Yet Inscrutable Tiger Claw, a move developed as a last resort in an overall strategy of self-defense, has been corrupted in the name of evil.”
General Tsang drew his sword, took a knee, and rested his head on the hilt. “I swear on my sword I will give my life before I allow the Emperor’s brain to be eaten, old friend.”
“I know you will protect him,” the master replied. “I must take my leave now, for I have dispatched my last two remaining disciples on missions in furtherance of Dragonhand’s defeat. Take care, General.”
Poof! The general was all alone.
“Advisor Zhen,” General Tsang muttered. “I hate it when I have to speak to that fool.”
The Forbidden City was a vast complex of architecturally impressive buildings, walled off from the rest of the world, leaving anyone without the Emperor’s permission “forbidden” from entering. In the center of it all stood the Imperial Palace, the tallest, most luxurious structure in the entire country.
The gruff and grizzled General Tsang wore impeccably polished black armor. His posture was rigid. His demeanor was curt. In his youth, a knife had been dragged across the right side of his face, from just underneath his eye all the way to his jaw. The wound never slowed him down, but the scar remained.
The general walked on top of the city’s wall, inspecting his troops along the way. One young soldier appeared to be suffering a case of poor posture.
“Stand up straight like a man!” the general barked. The soldier immediately complied.
Further on down the wall, the general found Weiyuan and Tengfei, his two laziest soldiers. They engaged in a frivolous conversation, paying attention to anything but their duties.
Weiyuan puffed out his chest, put a dour expression on his face and did his best General Tsang impression. “‘Blah, blah, blah! I’m the boss! Blah, blah, your armor is out of order. Beg for forgiveness and kill yourself! Blah, blah, blah!’”
Tengfei slapped his knee and laughed until he saw “the boss” approaching. He straightened up quickly.
“‘Blah, blah, blah!’” shouted Weiyuan.
Tengfei looked away.
“What?” Weiyuan asked.
Tengfei kept quiet.
Weiyuan gulped. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
“Unghh,” came the general’s grunt of disapproval. Weyuan quickly joined Tengfei in standing at attention.
“Do you two think it is funny to mock your commanding officer?” the general asked.
“He did it all on his own!” Tengfei blurted out. “I tried to stop him. Oh, I how I tried!”
“Lies!” shouted Weiyuan. “It was all his idea, sir! Please punish this rapscallion! He is a walking offense to the Imperial Army.”
The general grunted. “Do you think it would be funny if an assassin were to sneak through these walls and make quick work of the Emperor while you two fools are amusing yourselves?”
Weiyuan and Tengfei looked at one another then met the general’s eyes with blank stares.
“Is this is a trick question, sir?” Weiyuan asked.
The general provided the correct response. “No, it would not!”
“Right, sir,” Weiyuan said.
“That wouldn’t be funny at all, sir,” Tengfei added.
“Return to your duties or I’ll have you both skinned alive and boiled in oil,” the general said.
“Yes sir,” the soldiers replied in unison.
As the general headed down the wall, he could hear his subordinates whisper about him.
“He’s in a better mood than usual,” Weiyuan said.
“Thank goodness,” Tengfei replied.
Further on down, the general came across a soldier with a smudge on his breastplate.
“What is that?” the general asked.
The general broke out in a cold sweat and began shaking. “What is what, sir?”
General Tsang snapped his pointer finger up, brushed it across the smudge, then showed the soldier the filth that had rubbed off.
“You make me sick,” the general said.
“I…I’m sorry sir,” the soldier said. “I make myself sick as well. A thousand apologies.”
“You will get no sleep tonight,” the general said. “You will polish your armor until sunrise and you will show up for duty looking presentable or I will personally throw you off the side of this wall. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” the soldier said.
The general slapped the soldier’s arm. “Good. Say hello to your mother for me, Cousin Nianzu.”
“Yes sir,” Nianzu replied.
The general reached a quiet, lonely spot and took a moment to observe the city below. Bureaucrats, administrators and servants all hurried about, tending to their duties in service of the Emperor.
“General,” came the voice of an old man.
On pure instinct, General Tsang drew his sword and turned, only to find the ghost of…
“Infallible Master?” the general asked.
“The same,” the master answered.
The general returned his weapon to its scabbard. “Congratulations on your mastery of astral projection. I knew you’d figure it out one day.”
“Thank you,” the master said.
“Still,” the general said. “I’d prefer to see you in person.”
“Would that I could,” the master said. “But I can’t, for I am dead.”
Welcome to my new column, “Could They Make It Today?” in which I go back in time, take a look at the pop culture of my Gen X youth (we did exist though we seem to have been forgotten early) and discuss how movies and/or TV shows from the past couldn’t be made in the present (at least not without an extensive tuneup).
First up, Transformers: The Movie (1986).
Now, if you’re a member of Generation X, and again, millennials, I swear we existed…we are the Baby Boomers’ kids and you just know more about the Baby Boomers because they are hanging on for a really long time thanks to advances in science and medicine and shit.
Let me try again. If you are are a member of Generation X, then you probably remember where you were when Optimus Prime died.
The year was 1986. Transformers were a popular line of children’s toys that combined a childish love of vehicles and robots by having robots turn into vehicles. Two toys in one.
There was a corresponding TV show in which Optimus Prime, a tractor trailer with a John Wayne style voice, commanded the Autobots in their war against the villainous Deceptions, lead by the evil Megatron.
So, after several years of a show where robots fired lasers at each other and missed, thus giving children a sense of excitement without burdening their young minds with thoughts of death, some dumb ass or collection of dumb asses got it in their heads to completely rewrite the direction of the series with a major motion film.
I went to it. I was a little kid. Had my popcorn. Had my Transformer. Had my seat. I was ready to have a good time and then boom…literally every character I loved dies.
Seriously. What the shit? Who thought this was a good idea?
Optimus Prime and Megatron clash on the field of battle. Megatron gets the upper hand and takes down Optimus.
OK. That was sad. I don’t think it was a great move for studio execs to kill off a beloved children’s character, especially the main one who carries the series.
But then it gets worse. There’s a scene where the main contingent of Autobots (i.e. Ratchet and Ironhide, etc.), characters who had been with the series since the start, are flying a shuttle back to…I don’t know, Autobot Town, I’m an adult now so I don’t give as many shits as I used to.
Long story short, Megatron and his lackies break down the door and totally Wild Bunch the shit out of the Autobots. I’m serious. After years of lasers that never hit anyone, Megatron’s lasers hit everyone with great precision.
And it’s not just like, “Boom! You’re dead!” We see the lights in the Autobots’ eyes flicker and go out. Smoke comes out of their mouths. Holes rip up their chassis. It’s total carnage and mayhem.
Death has been a part of kids movies since the beginning of animation. When Bambi’s mother dies, it introduces kids to concept they yeah, one day your grandparents are going to croak, then your parents, then pretty much everyone else you know until you end up all alone and the grim reaper puts his icy hand on your shoulder.
Personally, I didn’t even think it was cool for Disney to kill of Bambi’s mother but ok. There’s a difference between Bambi’s mother dying and the stone cold political/ideological assassination that takes place in the Transformers movie.
By the end of the film, new Autobots take over. “Rodimus Prime” takes Optimus’ place and as a kid, it’s basically the equivalent of your how you feel when your mom kicks dad out of the house and starts dating some new guy and wants you to call him “Dad.”
RODIMUS PRIME: Autobots, roll out!
1980s’ Kids: F%*k you! Only Optimus can say that! You’re not my real Autobot leader!
Like many cartoon shows, Transformers was a vehicle to sell toys. Kids bond with the characters on TV, look at them as if they are friends, and then want their parents to buy them a friend they can play with in the form of toys.
But some young 1980s Baby Boomer screwed the pooch because kids were highly displeased, so much so that Optimus Prime is brought back to life by the end of the series.
The whole movie was intended to reset the series and bring it to a futuristic 2005 (which, sadly, is now in the past) with the robots turning into sleeker, more futuristic robots.
Clearly, the assumption in the board room was that they’ll kill off all the main characters (even Megatron and company get converted into new characters) and then the kids will throw away all their old toys and buy these new toys.
Just as clearly, these people did not know kids. Have you ever tried to pry a beloved toy out of a kid’s hand? Good luck. Kids kept playing with their old transformers. In the battles that played out on living room furniture, Optimus and friends were still alive. T
The new replacements were seen as wannabe step-dads trying to buy our love with ice cream and thus, the series didn’t last much longer after that. The movie pretty much blew up the whole enterprise.
The idea went over like a lead balloon and was so widely rejected by kids that a GI Joe movie that came out around the same time was quickly rewritten to prevent Duke from dying. Those suits were totally gunning for Duke and he was only saved because Optimus’ death went over so poorly.
Could they make it today? Well, they do make it today. Now the Transformers films have become these grand scale Michael Bay action/disaster movies with plenty of action and very little plot. And yes, occasionally a Transformer will buy the farm in these movies but the millennials didn’t grow up with them and Generation X is still too old to care.
Although personally, I was sad when Jazz gets ripped apart in one of the new films.
I think the film taught the toy/cartoon industry complex a valuable lesson. You don’t have to kill off characters just to introduce new toys/characters. There was no reason why the Autobots couldn’t have lived and still made friends with new characters/toys that could be sold at parental wallet draining prices.
This is what frustrates me with the millennials. They think the baby boomers are mean and greedy and hey, I feel your pain. I’ve been feeling it ever since some Gordon Gecko-esque fancy suit wearing 1980s baby boomer prick decided that subjecting my young self to a scene where all my favorite toy characters suffer from political assassination was a good idea.
In conclusion, Generation X exists, and while Transformers movies continue to go on strong, the powers that be have learned to not kill off beloved children’s characters all willy-nilly.
It’s been a year since I began this list but I always knew I’d get back to it sooner or later.
Dexter. It raised us up so high only to bring us crashing so far down.
Needless to say, we’re talking about how the series ended, so if you haven’t watched it yet, beware of SPOILERS.
In a world of sequels to sequels and reboots of reboots, Showtime’s Dexter had a rather unique premise: a serial killer who you could actually root for.
Michael C. Hall starred as Dexter Morgan, the Miami Homicide forensic analyst who, in his spare time, feeds his twisted inner need to kill (which he refers to as his “dark passenger”) by murdering bad people.
The series starts off strong. Seasons 1 and 2 are particularly great. Season 4 Dexter meets his match in the Trinity Killer (John Lithgow) and then after that, the whole shebang just begins to unravel.
At the heart of the show was the fact that Dexter, believe it or not, was relatable. Sure, you don’t kidnap evildoers, take them to a secluded area, wrap them in plastic wrap and then stab them, but at some point in your life, maybe you’ve felt like you don’t fit in.
Dexter suffers from that same anxiety. He has a hard time making friends. He has a hard time sharing his feelings because he doesn’t have any, yet he’d like to have some. He brings a box of donuts to work everyday to use as a social crutch/ice breaker (i.e. he can’t really strike up a conversation with someone without the excuse of, ‘Hey, would you like a donut?'”)
We’ve all been there and yet, we all (hopefully) see improvement in our social circles as long as we keep trying. Over the course of the show, the Miami Homicide Division becomes Dexter’s family. The various detectives become his brothers and sisters. Hell, one of them even is his sister in the form of foul mouthed Debra (Jennifer Carpenter).
Throughout the series, we see the toll Dexter’s double life takes on him. His job is to help the police department uphold the law. Yet all too often, he uses department resources (databases, crime lab, etc.) to track down bad guys and kill them before his colleagues can collar them.
Moral issues arise. Is it right to do something evil, even if it is against someone evil? Is it wrong to be a vigilante? Doesn’t allegiance to the legal system mean that we take the good with the bad, that sometimes a bad guy gets off on a technicality in order to make sure good people aren’t railroaded?
In the beginning of the series, Dexter operates with a moral code (passed down to him by his police officer father) that serves him well. Be thorough and don’t make a mistake (i.e. don’t kill someone who didn’t do something wrong). Don’t share this secret life with others. Don’t get caught.
In the first two seasons, Dexter’s murderous craft is an art form to behold. He uses intelligence, trickery, deception, science and skill to catch his victims, kill them and make them disappear without leaving behind so much as a single trace.
Alas, in season three the writing starts to get sloppy and Dexter begins going from methodical mad man who thinks of everything to guy who wants to be everyone’s friend. Dexter shares his secret with a district attorney played by Jimmy Smitts, and from thereon, starts sharing his double life with others throughout the series.
That seemed dumb to me. I remember thinking, “Yeah right. No one can keep a secret like that for long.” The whole point of why this character was interesting is because he does so much evil in his personal life and yet still manages to show up to work everyday and beguile a group of colleagues who treat him like a member of the family, fool his sister, his girlfriend, even the step-kids that he takes on as a step-father figure.
Every TV show raises a question. Here, the question is, “Will Dexter ever get caught?”
That’s the question that kept us on the edge of our seats, season after season. Will Dexter slip up and be discovered? Will the people he works with in Miami Homicide end up looking like and feeling like fools when it comes out that one of their own was a murderer? Will one of the detectives end up taking Dexter in? Will Debra and Dexter square off?
Alas, the show jumps the shark when Debra discover Dexter’s secret life. Despite her character being presented as a strong law woman, she goes nuts, quits the force and starts helping Dexter cover up his shit. Just never seemed like something she would ever do.
Personally, I was waiting for years for that moment when Debra makes a difficult choice to haul her own brother in but I never got it.
The show sort of redeems itself when Deb, faced with the decision of whether or not to back up Detective LaGuerta (Lauren Luna Velez) or side with her brother, chooses her brother and shoots LaGuerta. Not really an outcome I was rooting for but OK, I get it. Family bonds are strong and sometimes people do shitty things they don’t want to do in the name of saving a family member’s hide.
To me, the obvious storyline would have been for Sgt. Angel Bautista (David Zayas) to end up in some kind of showdown vs. Dexter and Deb. Bautista and LaGuerta were married and though divorced, he still loved her. He looked at Dexter and Deb as his own brother and sister, even including Dexter in on his bowling league. Surely he could have discovered this and felt betrayed and there could have been some awesome final season long manhunt where he tracks him down but no…nope…Bautista just remains a clueless dummy to the end.
Where was I?
Right. The finale sucked not just because it sucked because it was just one long arc of suck that began in season five and culminated in the disastrous finale.
Deb dies off screen. We don’t see it. We’re just told it as a side note, as if it is an afterthought.
Dexter motors his boat to the hospital and pulls up to a ramp and you’re supposed to just nod like an asshole and be like, “OK. I guess hospitals have boat ramps.”
Dexter then picks his dead sister up out of her hospital bed and walks out the front door with her, past nurses and doctors and security and yeah, I get that they were all dealing with the complications of a hurricane but still, someone would have noticed this.
Dexter then leaves with Debra, again from the hospital boat ramp, and deposits her in a watery grave in a part of the bay where he dumped all of his chopped up victims.
For a brief second you think this is interesting symbolism. Dexter feels like shit that his double life caused his sister so much pain that it essentially killed her so he dispatches her as if she’s one last victim.
But then you just end up thinking that Dexter is a sack of shit and maybe his sister deserved a nice police department funeral with the flag draped over the casket and the twenty one gun salute and a head stone for people to put flowers on but no, he drops her carcass off in a part of the ocean filled with chopped up bodies.
Dexter, you asshole.
Oh, so then Dexter leaves his young son to be raised by Hannah McKay (Yvonne Strahovski), a murderous wench that he hasn’t even known for that long.
I always felt the writers missed out a potentially awesome story line. There really should have been a season where Dexter and Hannah get married, go to jobs by day, then serially kill together at night. Showtime really should have hired me.
So then Dexter points his boat at the hurricane and sails towards it. And you’re like, “OK…well this is all shit but at least there’s a resolution. There’s an answer. Dexter finally feels like such a shit heel for his life of crime that he kills himself.”
But nope. The writers wouldn’t commit. In one last brief scene, Dexter has taken a job in the great Northwest as a lumberjack.
So that’s pretty much it. We watched this show for years only to find out that he becomes a chopper of wood in the end.
Truly, one of the worst TV show finales ever.
If you haven’t seen it yet, you shouldn’t have read any of this. But at any rate, seasons one through four are great and then it probably should have just stopped at four if the writers weren’t going to take it seriously.
That showdown where Dexter’s friends/family finally take him down…or that big final case where Dexter beats all the odds and walks away a free man one last time never materializes. It just fizzles out and then leaves you with a promise that one day a show might be developed about a murderous lumberjack that, let’s face it, you won’t really want to see.
Bookshelf Battle 