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Resident Evil

Resident Evil. Paul W.S. Anderson. 2002.

This is so stupid! I love it!

Every scene is like is was designed by an eleven-year-old. Everything is like “whoa!” all the time. ALL THE TIME! (If you’re that age, or if you’re like me, a very old very drunk man.)

This really has no reason to be this exciting! I mean, this may be the stupidest movie ever, but I’m totally in.

What was the budget for this thing? Ten bucks?

That’s more than I guessed!

It’s just so cheesy. Fantastic. It’s not like all the sets are made of MDF and duck tape… it’s more like plexiglass and plastics.

And the generic “Now That’s What I Call Industrial Metal” sound track!

Yes! Kill all the dogs!

OK, now the movie is starting to drag? The computer had to deliver like fourteen hours worth of exposition, and it was all stuff we’d already figured out, so that’s boring.

The problem with this sort of narrative (see Life for a more recent example) is that the thing they’re fighting (really) is a contagion that’s so virulent that the only logical thing for any protagonist to do is go “OK, we’re probably all infected, so the thing to do is 1) nuke this facility/send it into the Sun, and 2) kill ourselves, in whatever sequence makes the most sense”, but instead they have Milla and her gang escaping the compound. OK, Milla is really confused (she had her memory wiped), so that’s an excuse, but the soldiers? Nope.

Well, perhaps it’s a commentary on how badly trained soldiers are these days.

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