Have you watched college basketball lately? Noticed anything odd? Let me give you a hint…Afros and knee-high tube socks.
Yes, what comes around goes around. Heroin is huge. Puma and Adidas are back. The state of popular music today is in such a shambles that dinosaur pot-head (not that there’s anything wrong with that) guitarist Carlos Santana is kickin’ the Backstreet Boys’ and their ilk’s collective asses. There’s a crappy Travolta movie released every month and giving a shit about the space program is back in vogue…at least it was until “Mission to Mars” hit screens across America.
See folks, the gig is up. Our numb-nuts federal legislators, in their infinite wisdom, passed a law (read: bend over) called the “Space Act Agreement for Film and TV.” Ya see, Hollywood doesn’t make enough shitty movies on their own…they need help from the government to assure maximum suckage.
And suck this movie does…long…slow…boring…suck. If this movie was a blow job, you’d fall asleep before you’d ever blow a nut.
Just like looking into the eyes of Muskovites at the height of Soviet communism, the eyes of the actors in “Mission to Mars” had the look of “holy fucking shit…is that the sound of my career careening helplessly toward the Martian landscape?”
“Mission to Mars” started slower than a fiat in sub-zero temperatures. My hemorroids began flaring up five minutes into this crappy, ridiculous sci-fi flicks. The only way to have made this movie more sucky would be to have cast Patrick Swayze in a leading role.
I find myself struggling to find the words that will accurately communicate the level of boredom to which this movie will subject a person. I’m sure the words and an appropriate analogy do exist, but not in the English language or western culture.
The stupid moments came in…normally I would use the phrase “rapid fire succession” but that would have been a blessing had it occurred. Instead, Brian De Palma’s direction dragged this bitch out forever. For instance, when the first wave of morons start poking around Mars, they piss off the native which triggers a shit-storm of rocks and dirt. Boulders being rolling by and what do the stupid pricks do? They stand there and watch. What the fuck?!?!!! Of course the only one of the four who survive is a brother. Why you may ask? Because Hollywood has made it painfully obvious through scores of disaster flicks and horror movies that white people have absolutely no drive for self preservation whatsoever.
After letting the poor brother twist in the Martian wind for a friggin’ year, three schleps show up to resuce him. Guess what…brother with a big ass afro.
As “Mission to Mars” lurches toward the “show and tell with a billion-year-old Martian chick” ending, I couldn’t help thinking “wouldn’t this flick have been much better had Patrick Swayze bitch slapped that Martian and run over her with a big 4-wheel drive truck?”
And the answer is…”HELL FUCKING YES!!!”
Mission to Mars gets 100 Swayzes: