I'm up this late because the kids got to bed at a decent time and I chose to catch up on my pop culture from the last seventeen years, so: A Belated Review of GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra.
There are great movies. This was not one. There are good movies. This was not one. There are ok movies. This was not one. There are bad movies. This was not one. There are awful movies. This was not one.
This was a movie so bad, it made every, single actor and actress in it, except for Ray Park, awful. Good actors, great actors, well-known regarded actors, one of the Wayans brothers: So, so bad.
Ray Park was amazing. Ray Park didn't speak. Everyone who spoke was worse for it. Every line of dialogue, every movement on the set, every plot device except, again, Snake Eyes's backstory, was so bad I experienced pain.
The premise began stupidly and then the plot shoved its beer into the poor premise's open hands, smashing a perfectly good mug and wasting beer so it evened out, and decided to prove it could be worse.
The number of forced character placements, Easter Eggs, and nods to the fact that everyone hated this from the moment preproduction began, shoved into two hours, beggars the imagination.
Or at least, my imagination packed its bags and left in indignation.
Or at least, my imagination packed its bags and left in indignation.
Half of what happened didn't make sense even in the context of the film, and the other half didn't even try.
I am actually reasonably sure that everyone involved in making this film had family being held hostage to force them into it; and every morning, the entire cast and crew were liberally soaked in pig vomit.
I am viscerally upset with myself for wasting not merely the time, but the ATP to see this abomination.
If you haven't seen it and you're tempted, take up alcoholism or mainlining fentanyl or basically anything else instead.
