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.
Man, Rambo is so bad — it’s great. Like holy flaming cheese balls, Batman, this is not good filmmaking. The riverboat explodes just before the fiery army boat crashes into it. Just totally over the top, start to finish.
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.
Rambo’s girlfriend is dead. Let this be a lesson to you, kids. If you’re ever stuck in a space-time loop in 1985 when you’re on the lam from the vestiges of the Vietcong, DO NOT WEAR A RED DRESS IN THE JUNGLE. Not even being Rambo’s girlfriend can save you. Get a camouflage gown and thank me later.
Wondering if this is a Rambo-Harry Potter mashup, because Rambo has a curiously regenerative supply of arrows for his bow, for a guy who had to cut his pack off when he got caught mid-jump from his plans.
It’s magical! All the arrows you could need!
Apparently “Rambo” is Italian for “collateral damage.”
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.
Sure, you electrocuted him and tortured his buddy, but you killed Rambo’s girlfriend AND made him get muddy in the tropical downpour while burying her. In short, you’re fucked now, Charlie. You can’t run and you can’t hide, ‘cos Rambo’s on the rampage now, Chuck.