Monthly Archives: August 2011

Coming To Terms With Conan

First let me just say that I’m not going to watch the new Conan movie anytime soon, and that yes, I’m going to go ahead and complain about it for a while here, so if that strikes you as unfair or irresponsible, might as well scroll on down to the comment box and get it out of your system.  But you should know, I’m not a journalist or a movie reviewer, just a guy drinking in front of his laptop at eight o’clock in the morning, so I can pretty much do as a please.  Can’t fire bloggers, know what I mean?

I was pretty sure this movie was going to be terrible because the guys who wrote it had written nothing but terrible, awful, horribly flatulent crapfests so far, like A Sound of Thunder, a solid candidate for The Worst Mainstream Time Travel Movie Ever. 

But then okay, I thought – it’s just Conan.  All we need is a bad guy who maybe kidnapped a princess, a bunch of henchmen with various medieval weapons, at least one solid monster, and a ragtag band of sidekicks.  They kept it R-rated, after all, so at least they weren’t trying to water it down.  Conan’s pretty messy, yessiree Bob.

So maybe any random two guys with nothing but horrible movies under their belts could hammer out a decent screenplay.  As long as they had some cool swordfights, what’s the difference?  I mean, who wrote the original, Oliver Stone?

Oh.  Yes, it was in fact Oscar-award winning American icon Oliver Stone, just – as Spang insists – taking tons of weird seventies drugs and knocking out one of the greatest fantasy screenplays in American history.  So man, thinking about it like that, I’ll bet it’s pretty easy to screw up a barbarian movie.  For the love of God, you ever see Beastmaster? 

No?  Huh.  How about Beastmaster II: Through The Portal Of Time?  Why, yes, that is former MTV veejay Kari Wuerer on the poster with him there, years before her breakthrough role in Eight Legged Freaks with Scarlett Johansson – good question.

Okay, whatever, that’s fine.  You spend your time however you like, it’s your life.  But you really don’t need to bother – you know the Beastmaster talks to the animals, right?  So it’s like Doctor Doolitte the Barbarian, or Doctor Doolittle the Barbarian II: Through The Portal of Time.

My advice would have been focus on a genre, but what do I know, I’m just a blogger, etc., etc. etc.

And so anyway, you probably don’t know that the guy who plays Conan (Jason Momoa) is also the guy who plays Ronon on Stargate: Atlantis (you heard me).  And so if you look at a picture of him in his Conan suit, scowling, he looks like a pretty good Conan. 

But then when he moves his face, it’s suddenly all wrong,  Conan doesn’t smirk, and he’s not wry, and he’s got crazy eyes – cause the motherfucker is crazy.  You grow up without your mom and get enslaved and then gladiatorized, well, welcome to Crazy Town – that’s how it works.  He might crack a joke once in a while, but it won’t be a subtle joke.  His demeanor is stony and serious and gargantuan and stabby.  And he doesn’t get his goddamn eyebrows plucked.

Momoa looks like a smooth-talking guitar guy from Colorado, smirking at you like he’s about to utilize your own panic to steal your girlfriend.  It’s like he’s too relaxed or something, I don’t know.  He’s too hot – Conan’s not hot, he’s just so huge and homicidal it doesn’t matter if he’s hot.  Chicks apparently dug that in the seventies and in the Age of Steel.

And already I’ve had a couple of people try to tell me that I don’t like the movie I haven’t seen because I’m not familiar with the original paperback novels, written by Whoever The Guy Is Who I Don’t Feel Like Googling Right Now.  And that’s bullshit, I read a couple of those things, found ’em lying around at my cousin Brad’s.  They were awesome, so shut up, that’s not the problem.

I mean, listen, man I had my own sword (Brad’s fault, too), and I’d get it out and tap it against my hand the way other kids get out a ball and glove to watch baseball, except I was watching Conan.  At like ten years of age, by the way – Mom, you know Conan blarnies into a canniballistic orgy at the end of that flick, kills a bunch of naked swingers and dumps out their People Soup?  Rated R, Mom, and that’s a Seventies R.  Just sayin’.

I do realize that I said earlier that I’d watch this movie twice even if it sucked because Rose McGowan’s in it, but why not just set the DVR and watch Charmed?  I mean, screw it, right?

Hollywood’s always doing this to me, and I need to learn to manage my expectations.  They take some treasured childhood movie and they either wake it up just so it can sit there blinking at me (Tron, Land of the Lost, The Day the Earth Stood Still) or they reanimate it like a horrible, spage-age zombie and make it dance around in funny outfits and do godawful things to it that make us forget it was ever awesome in the first place (Star Wars, Highlander) or they do whatever they’ve done to Conan that’s making everyone tell me it sucks.

I’m not participating this time.  I’m a grownup and there are plenty of comic book movies to watch this year and anyway the new season of Doctor Who starts Saturday, and I have kind of a belly ache and school starts tomorrow.  I’m just taking my ball and going home, you bunch of dicks.

I’m sorry blogosphere, I get cranky if I don’t get a nap.  My mom will call your mom later and square it all up.  Good night.


Posted by on August 22, 2011 in Television/Movies, Uncategorized


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