Last time we danced this tango together, I said we’d talk about the recent Conan the Barbarian. The only problem there is that it’s been over a week since my viewing and like hell if I can remember anything that happened in it. Honestly, I’ve started to get it and the last movie I saw, Our Idiot Brother, a bit mixed up. So forgive me if I go off on any tangents about Paul Rudd decapitating sand-demons whilst on mission to save his dog from the wrath of…whatever the hell the bad guys in Conan were supposed to be.

Conan might be the worst type of bad movie in that it’s so forgettable, you could probably take my last paragraph at its word and everything would be right with the world. There’s always a place on my movie shelf for the sublimely bad. But the mediocre? Relegated to hungover Sundays on the SyFy channel alongside reruns of Haven (that’s a show right? Someone told me it was a show).

This update tells the story of Conan O’Barbarian as he takes on the evil Invader Zim. Because of a mask. Or some such horseshit — the movie cares as little as I do. This is the worst type of MacGuffin plot where nobody really seems to care what the bad guy is up to and he pretty much succeeds in his plans only to…not do whatever it is he set out to do. Seriously, he gets his damn magic trinket put together, all but sacrifices Rachel Nichols’ fine ass, gains ULTIMATE POWAAAAR and then proceeds to…not do anything. He all but runs Conan’s sword through his own stomach. Hell, he’s a more ferocious villain BEFORE he becomes potentially all-powerful. This would be like Sauron regaining the One Ring and proceeding to use it to spy on girls in the shower. Not particularly interesting, cinematically.*

Speaking of Rachel Nichols (as I did about four sentences ago), she provides a few of the movies more fun moments. The best example, of course, being her willful defiance of Khal Drogo, claiming she takes orders from NO MAN! This being immediately after she explains her mission to…follow her master’s orders. Maybe she’s got that Memento disease.

At this point I’d like to say that I’ve run out of things to say about Conan. Mostly because I honestly can’t remember anything else about it. Except when Conan and Black Cohort discover the lost tribe of whores and are exposed to what must be the first instance of breast implants in history. So at least the film is informative from a medical standpoint.

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I WATCHED YESTERDAY? I YELL? The 1994 (? Maybe, I didn’t look. Felt like it, though) film adaptation of Double Dragon. It was…less than good. The kind of movie that I already hated way back when it came out even though I was the perfect age for retarded Scott Wolf-based shenanigans. How bad is it? I bet Mark Dacascos leaves it off his resume, and dude made Only the Strong, so you know he’s not that picky.** Sure, it might be fun for a few minutes to watch an insanely coifed Robert Patrick christen himself Koga Shuko whilst Andy Dick forcasts the weather on tv and Alyssa Milano forcefeeds spinach puree to a mutated giant (these are all actual things that happen in this “movie”), but it’s ultimately a lot like tetherball: You play along for a little bit, but in the end you just wanna hit somebody in the face really hard.

See you next time when we talk about how to spot crack addicts at your place of work through the ancient art of hypno-harpooning.


Devin Coombs, Chief of Medicine

*I mean this, of course, from a story standpoint. There’s nothing more inherently cinematic than a group of girls lathering up together. As evidenced by classic 80s documentary Porky’s.

** Dacascos ultimately has the last laugh, though, by being married to Madeline from The Wonder Years, the woman who truly ushered me into puberty. DAMN YOU DACASCOS! DAMN YOU TO HELL!