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A very brief journey down ‘The Road’

2010/07/20

Okay, I’ve made it abundantly clear that I love all things set in a post-apocalyptic future.  All of them, I don’t care if the future brings zombies, gasoline wars, vampires, giant roaches – don’t care.  Bring them all on, as long as we get to start over.  A nice clean slate for all of humanity, no politics, no jobs, just fighting like hell to survive the day, sometimes involving weapons fashioned out of automotive parts, clothing, and other humans.  I LOVE (or at least ‘like’) THEM ALL!

Until now.

I’m going to keep this short:  Congratulations, makers of The Road!  You achieved the impossible; you made the post-apocalypse dull, tedious and depressing.  Bravo, asshats! I get it.  If the world went to hell, it wouldn’t really be all fun and twinkie-hunting and undead-decapitating; I’m not four.  The only purpose for post-apocalyptic settings is escapism, and you sucked all that air right out of here immediately, douches.  A pox on thee, joy assassins!

I understand that The Road is based on some gigantic best-seller by Cormac McCarthy that I’m never going to get around to reading – maybe it’s really good, I won’t ever know.  Know why?  Because I own at least a hundred other books I have to get to first, let alone write a couple, and I have some sort of illness that causes me to shun nearly everything that a billion people insist on telling me is ‘awesome’ or ‘life-changing’.  This is all I have to say about the source material:  Cormac, if your book is even halfway as mind-numbing as the first thirty minutes of this film that bears its name, rest assured that when the virus or bomb wipes 95% of us out, I will make it my personal mission to roam the FreeLand and prevent you from getting any clean water, ever.  I will, however, allow you to drink rainwater harvested only from dirty DVD cases of this shitbox, or wrung out from the pages of your own paperbacks.

I will say this:  kudos for somehow making Viggo Mortenson look grubbier and gnarlier than God already made him – I guess that’s something, but not much.  We took a house vote at the thirty minute mark, and this drudge festival lost unanimously in a vote of 2 to ‘why won’t this DVD catch on fire?’.   We didn’t even get to Guy Pearce, which is maybe too bad, because if anybody could lighten-up a dullery like this, it would have to be SkeletonFace, wouldn’t it?  I’d bet he spends his time in the movie looking all pissed that for once he’s not allowed to be the most grizzled looking dude wandering around aimlessly waiting to die.

Instead, we watched an episode of a ScyFy series called Haven which just started up, and I’m gonna talk about later this week.  In doing so, we salvaged a night that began with this movie, whose sole intention seems to be ‘make viewers form and execute suicide pacts’. I mention this only to point out the following:

Hey Road, you got outscored on the enjoyability court, by a tremendous margin, by an original series on a network that predominantly funds original offerings featuring Tiffany, Gregory Harrison and Nerf Spiders.  Suck on that.

1 out of 7, just because I am astounded at how gnarly Mortenson looked.

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