Watching Rambo for something brainless.
For a moment there, I almost did a web search to find movie “flaws” on it. I’m sure some CSI nerd has done a treatise on why trajectory science means it’s impossible for Rambo to have pinned that Vietcong’s head to the post with an arrow like that, given he was crouching in the bushes. I mean, that’s some magic bullet bullshit.
But thank god I stopped myself just in time.
CONVENIENTLY, the Russian Lt-Col speaks fluent English and the Vietcong understand. Because everyone speaks English, of course!
The only people who think everyone speaks English are English-speakers. I once tried to order tweaks in a shawarma place in Madrid, so a Persian guy asked a Spaniard to ask a German if he could translate for us. He could not. A Frenchwoman translated for me to the German, who told the Spaniard, who told his Persian coworker to give me half falafel, half shawarma.
Against all odds, guys, Rambo made it out alive. Again! Geez. Never saw that coming. Well, I can go to bed with peace of mind then. Phew.
This concludes Steffani’s Masterpiece Theatre.