Captain America Goes Medieval

So I sat down and watched “The Scorpion King: Rise of a Warrior” the other night.  If you have to ask yourself why I would do such a thing to myself for even an instant you haven’t been reading this blog long enough, but that’s neither here nor there.

If you look closely, you can see the terrible sword in question being wielded by the equally plastic and terrible goddess who guards it.

Oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself.  Harnessing the lightning, some dead gopher entrails we found in the backyard, cardboard tubes, and some duct tape, my roommate Dave has at least in part resurrected the red-ringing bastard of an Xbox, allowing for limited gameplay and apparently as much netflix as we want.  So we sat down for a flick the other night, and the prior mentioned movie was chosen.

A pretty terrible prequel as far as films go.  While the writing isn’t completely bad, with the plot actually semi-working for me as a fantasy dork, the movie more resembles someone’s D&D campaign put to celluloid than a part of the ever expanding Mummy series.  Most of the performances were groan worthy, even as these kind of bad movies go.  And we won’t even get into Randy Couture’s performance as the evil King Sargon, which was about as stone-faced and unemotional as one of those creepy Ronald McDonald bench statues.  But it is Captain America, and his forte isn’t acting, it’s kicking his opponents teeth in, which the man excels at.  And really, he’s bordering on 50 years old, he has to start thinking about life outside of the Octagon, and acting in bad B-Movies is as good a continuation of a career as any I suppose.  But at least he could toss forth the excuse “Hey, I’m a umpteenth time UFC world champion!”, the rest of the cast had no such excuse.

But the absolute kicker in the flick was the heroes sword.  Looking like something you would find in the 8-12 year old aisle of toy’ R’ us, his “Sword of Damacles” (and for the record, I couldn’t help but chuckle a little every time they said the name of the weapon because all I could hear in my head was the Translvanian party-goers sung response “That ain’t no crime!” from Rocky’s song in RHPS playing over and over) the plastic monstrosity was side splitting-ly bad.  We all completely lost our shit when the sorry hero proudly brandished the huge and obviously plastic  thing and declared it was the greatest sword in the world.  I wish I could find an image to show you just how bad it was.

So once again, count yourself lucky that I inflicted this one on myself so you don’t have to feel the pain.  I’m kind of a hero martyr in that sense I guess.  Right?


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