Monthly Archives: July 2015

Karma: The Story of Tiger Woods

During the first decade of the 21st century, few if any athletes were as dominant in their sport as Tiger Woods was at golf. At 21 years old, he won the 1997 Masters by a record 12 strokes, reached the number one world ranking in June and through the 2000s, held the sport’s best player recognition with a vice grip. He won the Masters and the PGA Championship four times, and the U.S. Open and the Open Championship three times. He became the youngest player to achieve the career Grand Slam (Masters, U.S. Open, Open Championship, PGA Championship) and the quickest to achieve 50 tournament wins.

Tiger Woods was seemingly unstoppable, unable to be teetered to even above-average play. Dominance was established in the gentleman’s sport and his televised intensity and heart won over fans. Record-shattering and award-accumulating, no one could even touch Tiger’s shoes. From August 1999 to September 2004, Tiger was number one, a total of 264 weeks, more than five years. Vijay Singh overtook Woods that September but there was no question, no shadow of a doubt, who the best was. After regaining the ranking in June 2005, he blossomed under it for another five years.

There was no debate. One could argue Phil Mickelson if their fandom biased them, but there was never a different answer to the question, “Who is the best golfer in the world?” It was in concrete and would not crack under the ground-breaking force of earthquakes, the weathering of tsunamis, the devastation of hurricanes or the raw violence of tornadoes.

Tiger Woods was so phenomenal that he was a symbolic model more than he was an athlete. His continuous ability to clean up perfectly after a missed shot, bounce back after missing a par or make an insane putt at the most crucial time in a contest formed the quintessential embodiment of supremacy and athletic evolution. His execution was sublime and yet never failed to astonish nor seemed to plateau.

His swing, which experts claimed was unorthodox and put excessive strain on his knees, never caused significant problems for him. After missing months from knee surgery, he won the 2008 U.S. Open in dramatic fashion, many saying he did so on one leg. The undisputed god of golf could not be crippled.

Woods was matchless to the point that experts began debating if he was bad for golf and in an attempt to diminish him, began “Tiger-Proofing” the courses, adding yardage to try to eliminate Woods’ powerful swing.

To my knowledge, no athlete has ever been so good, so beyond his competitors, that the sport changed the rules in an effort to lower him. The rules of basketball were never changed to deter Michael Jordan nor the net shrunk to stop Gretzky. Woods was that good.

Woods was so absolute, the sport was beneath him. Woods stood on the golf world for a decade with forceful posture and no one could push him off.

No one, of course, except for his wife.

The day after Thanksgiving in 2009, Tiger Woods crashed his Cadillac Escalade near his home and suffered minor injuries. Reports came out that the back window had been smashed by a golf club. Woods claimed his wife had broken it to help him get out of the vehicle, a bogus explanation that only lit a fire under the heels of the paparazzi and media.

The phrase “field day” had never reached such a pinnacle since the birth of the new century. In the following weeks, more than a dozen women claimed to have had an affair with Woods.

And like that, one of the greatest athletes of all-time was gone.

Woods was blessed beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. His perfection had become assumed, his character beloved and his passion unquestioned. Woods was legendary, untarnished and unscathed. He was the 21st century’s first champion, unparalleled and unequaled.

However, like Icarus in the infamous tale of long, long ago, Woods dared to push the world and more importantly, his creator, to the brink. Like that, in the blink of an eye, his talent was gone. Woods was able to escape every sand trap, rough and injury that had tried to catch him, but he could not avoid the grasp of karma.

Karma is unavoidable. Some may debate its existence, but there can be no explanation for Woods’ dramatic dissent except for the power of karma. Woods had tweaked his swing and form in the past, minor variations that could hardly be seen by even the most avid golf fanatics. His putting was game-changing year after year. Once his disloyalty to his wife was revealed, all that Tiger Woods had come to epitomize was gone.

Most importantly, his game, the skill that brought such grandeur to greens across the country, vanished.

It was as if the soul of Tiger Woods’ astounding ability was its own individual and upon hearing of its owner’s misdeeds, walked out the door for good, never to be seen again.

Woods has been searching for it ever since like a pirate pursuing a city of gold. It is a myth, a legend, something that has no evidence to prove its existence.

That is what makes Woods’ exploration all the more unnerving. He knows it exists. He saw it with his own eyes for ten years. He grasped it in his hands, pumped his fists with the same blood in his veins as he has now. The golden fleece, Poseidon’s trident, use whatever mythological symbol you want, Woods had it. Karma stole it from him and he’s been determined to get it back ever since.

But he can’t.

Weeks ago, 15 years after winning the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach by a record 15 shots, Woods signed an 80, his worst score as a pro in 19 starts in the national championship that he’s won three times. During his miserable outing, there was a cheater banner literally flying over his head. He finished with a four round total of 302 (+14) at the Memorial, the worst 72-hole total of his career. He played the course by himself and had to pick up his own flag.

The undisputed face of golf, a crowned king, has become a novice at the sport he ruled over with such authority. His aptitude was innate, practiced and refined to leagues beyond leagues of merit.

Golf fans no longer care about Tiger Woods. Had Woods played a sport with less esteem like football, organized by a league that consistently excuses misdeeds off of the playing field, Woods would have suffered still, but nowhere near the loss that he has. Golf is the gentleman’s sport, pursued by those of all social standings with moral codes very much intact. Woods did not simply cheat on his wife. He cheated on the very foundation of golf. It was as if a famed ruler had spit in the face of the very country he represented.

Golf has had an identity crisis ever since the woods were torn down and now Jordan Spieth’s recent exploits may have finally given the sport the resurrection it has been searching for.

But Woods will not give in. Like a gold trophy long blemished, golf has been unable to unbolt it from the wall it adorned for so long. In a recent news conference, Woods has said he has no plans to retire. This, despite the fact that his last major victory was at the 2008 U.S. Open, that he’s dropped to 241st in the world golf rankings and that he’s gone more than a year and a half without a top-10 finish.

The persistence once admired has become a flaw. His quest for perfection has become a plight on his play and his hard-headed ego remains unconfrontable.

That is how the legend of Tiger Woods will end. The ball has been in the sand trap for five years and we are helpless as we watch Tiger swing and swing and swing with an uncontrollable rage, missing again and again. At first it was just desserts, then it was a comedy sketch, but now, it’s just sad.

It’s time to put the tiger down. No more roars will come from its jaws. No more will its coat adorn a fancy jewel or have the luxury of drinking from pure silver. No longer can it hunt an elusive prey. No longer can it jump the ravine to model in front of its innumerable visitors.

The tiger must decide if it will submit to the needle or continue to try to cover a distance it cannot cover as it falls into the depths below. Either way, no one’s watching.

 

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Movie Review: Terminator: Genisys

Alan Taylor’s Thor: The Dark World was crowned champion as my worst of 2013. With plot holes at an astronomical level, action scenes that were disappointing visually and conceptually, and acting directionless and talentless, Thor: The Dark World is easily the worst film that has come out of Marvel in recent years.

Had I known Alan Taylor directed this, I would have cringed but it would not have deterred me. Terminator Salvation was such a bad sequel, such a u-turn from the franchise’s previous direction, that James Cameron’s creation was begging for a rebirth. Sadly, they gave it to Alan Taylor.

Something else that the Terminator films have been doing lately is spoiling their own films in their trailers. Terminator Salvation had an awful, spoiler-ridden trailer. If you’re reading this review prior to seeing the film, DO NOT WATCH THE TERMINATOR: GENISYS TRAILER 2. Luckily for me, I don’t watch much television so I never saw the second trailer, for if I had, the film would have been spoiled. However, I am one of the lucky ones. There are millions who were not so lucky and had their experience destroyed before they purchased their ticket.

The purpose of marketing is obvious: to market, to sell a product. How do we sell a movie? Well, highlight the main actors, the director, maybe a few minor plot points, and a strong emphasis on visuals. I wrote a piece entitled The Art of the Trailer that you might check out to explore the world of film marketing further.

To sell a film, what should we not do? Well, let’s not divulge any plot twists. Can you imagine how awful The Sixth Sense would have been if Shyamalan had revealed one of the best plot twists of all-time in the trailer? That would be incredibly stupid, wouldn’t it?

Someone on the staff of the marketing department for Terminator: Genisys heard this argument and said, “You know what? I don’t see what’s wrong with that.” I don’t know if this was the boss that decided this and all of his subordinates just decided to play along so as not to incur his wrath or if the whole department was brimming with incompetence, but this was a poor decision from an entertainment and financial standpoint. If you reveal what’s going to happen, why would we pay to watch it?! It is the simplest argument in the world, yet in two consecutive films, the marketing department managed to play dumb and get paid for it. Think about it: some guys got paid, healthily I might add, to spoil a film connected to one of the most well-known franchises in film history. Wow.

So there’s that.

However, as I said, I avoided the stupid and for that I’m thankful.

Yet another stupid however: the marketing department and the script writers collaborated at the beginning of this film.

I had never seen The Terminator, the first film, until last week and that was because I suspected it to be closely tied to this film. I will kid you not, the sets and shots are exactly the same as the first film. Whether this was meant to be an ode to the one that started it all or not, it’s irritating. It went on for at least ten minutes. The intrigue of such a strategy lasts a few minutes, but ten is far too long. No one likes verbatim material. No one.

Once Terminator: Genisys decides to start being its own creation, it’s not awful, but once again, time travel is incorporated, a feature that I think needs to be removed for good from this saga. The franchise is an endless loop: send terminator back, send someone to aid the Connors. Kill terminator. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. There’s only four repeats instead of five because thankfully, Terminator: Salvation avoided that concept. That was one of the only pluses to the movie.

If Skynet can continue to send terminators back and the resistance can continually gain control of a time machine to send someone back themselves, without that sequence of events ever changing, this war will never end, making myself all the more irritable when a character says a variation of, “If we do this, Skynet is done.” No, it is not. No matter what you do, that won’t happen. The Skynet of the future will somehow realize you are trying to destroy its existence in the past and will send one of its killing machines farther back in time to kill Sarah Connor. Then the resistance will send someone to protect John Connor from a young age. Then Skynet will send someone to kill that young John. Then they’ll send someone to kill older John. Then they’ll say, “Screw it” and send someone back to kill a young Sarah. The process is monotonous.

For me, the Terminator franchise is a prime example of why films should avoid the concepts of time travel. With as many variables, equations and results that such a theory carries, it is impossible for everything to be accounted for. The first two installments demonstrated a thorough evaluation but delve any further into it and complications arise. The continual usage of all-too similar story lines is why I believe the franchise is overrated, but that’s a discussion for another time.

The writing is fair but introduces another fatal flaw to yet another Taylor-directed work. James Cameron’s endorsement of this movie strikes me, because Genisys falls not in left field, but in a ballpark on a different continent.

Describe the Terminator franchise. It’s a simple enough task if you’ve watched any of the films: post-apocalyptic, a world covered in grunge and desolation and seemingly hopeless. They are films foreshadowing the end, brewing technology’s deadly capabilities and artificial intelligence’s problem-solving and creativity. Character bonds are built on survival but remain distant from emotion. There is no time for that. This is war. There is violence. There is destruction and chaos. There is termination.

At no point would one say the franchise epitomizes excessive humor, romance, character reversals or feel visually out of its element, but I assure you that Terminator: Genisys has all these characteristics.

Alan Taylor is such a talentless hack, he tries to jump on the coattails of Age of Ultron and the more recent Jurassic World (which I strongly recommend), films that can get away with precisely dispatched humor because the element was never blacklisted from the franchise. Perhaps a handful of one-liners could be gathered from the four films combined, but Taylor is incognizant of the Terminator franchise’s semblance in cinema and decides to make a film comparable to an action-filled sitcom. Did he watch the franchise?

Taylor’s lighthearted attitude is the antagonist to a serious action film and contradicts everything that the franchise emboldens. In an age where film now heavily relies on visual effects, Taylor’s visual editing is awful, from major scene transitions that I’ll mention in the spoiler’s edition to fights that don’t have the dominant punch the Terminators are known for. The action is performed, not executed with the element-defining quality that Cameron’s two installments remain famous for and even Rise of the Machines and Salvation attempt to replicate. The action does not hold the gravity that the Terminator franchise has stamped on it.

Alan Taylor, I hate you. Here’s to hoping you never have a managing job again in any field of work, especially cinema.

Thankfully, Arnold Schwarzenegger finally got back on the horse and demonstrated he might have some gas in the tank after all and right when we were pulling into the car dealership to trade him in, too. Jokes aside, I’m happy for Arnold. As an actor, Arnold deserves better performances than The Last Stand and Sabotage, both colossal failures. He owes it not just to his audiences and fans, but to himself. After a laughable governorship and a quite possibly more laughable career re-ignition, I was begging for Arnold’s retirement in Winners And Losers: Round 1 (WAL). Watching athletes and actors struggle with something that was once so natural for them is hard to watch and in some cases, diminishes their legacy and unless I hate you, I don’t wish that for you. So since I’m saying that, Taylor, I take back what I said. Please continue making movies you and only you think are good and continue to dig yourself into a hole of negligence and unending criticism for your inadequacy and continual carelessness.

If Terminator: Genisys has a great thing going for it, it’s Arnold learning how to breathe again in front of the camera. He’s entertaining, his humor works and his stage presence is finally present again. Terminator Salvation missed its leading man badly and the franchise did well to return him. Bravo and welcome back. Try to stay back now and please be cautious of what you choose to star in next.

Why Jai Courtney continues to get roles and especially in big-name productions, I’m unsure, but thankfully, he remains tolerable and develops some chemistry with Emilia Clarke’s Sarah Connor. It’s not mind-blowing or particularly engaging but it’s there and it is what it is.

Arnold’s Terminator plays a father figure to Sarah and the bond that has grown for years that we sadly don’t get to take part in is admirable and at times, touching, if once again misplaced. Jason Clarke as John Connor also plays a substantial role if not the one he should have ever been tasked with. Once again, I’ll touch on that in the spoilers.

Once again, if you’re new to my blog, I’ve always ranked movies on a scale of 0-100 (I don’t know why, I just always have). Here’s the grading scale.  

90-100  It’s a great movie and definitely one worth buying. (Avengers: Age of UltronThe AvengersThe BabadookInterstellarChappie)

80-89   It was a pretty good movie and definitely one worth seeing, but it doesn’t quite scratch my top ten percentile. (The Cable GuyThe Cabin in the WoodsTears of the SunEdge of TomorrowThe Amazing Spider-Man 2)

70-79   It’s okay but I’ve seen better. It has its moments, but it has its flaws, too. (Anchorman 2: The Legend ContinuesLeon: The ProfessionalEnemySleeping with the EnemyEquilibrium)

60-69   It’s got plenty wrong with it but I still got enjoyment out of this one. (Black SheepTwistedParkerHouse at the End of the StreetThe Raven)

50-59   This movie isn’t intolerable but it’s not blowing my mind either. I’m trying really hard to get some sort of enjoyment out of this. (The SentinelMad Max: Fury RoadBlitzThe PunisherDrive Hard)

40-49   This movie is just mediocre. It’s not doing anything other than the bare minimal, so morbidly boring that sometimes I’m actually angry I watched this. (The Lost BoysZombeaversCrankErasedI, Frankenstein)

30-39   Definitely worse than mediocre, the 30′s ironically define the 1930′s, full of depression, lack of accomplishments, poverty and just so dumb. (CenturionPlanet of the ApesStonadosRedemptionPride and Prejudice)

20-29   What did I just watch? Cliches, stupidity, nothingness, did I mention stupidity? Just…wow. (The Boy Next DoorThe ColonyIn the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege TaleThe GreyX-Men: Days of Future Past)

0-19      Watching this movie resulted in one or more of the following: seizure, loss of brain cells, falling asleep/unconsciousness, feel you wasted your time/day, accomplished nothing for you, left the movie knowing less about it then you did going into it, constantly asking yourself why you came to see this movie, or near-death experience. In short, staring at a wall was just as entertaining as watching this movie. This movie deserved a sticker or a label that said, “WARNING: EXTREME AMOUNT OF SUCKAGE.” (CyborgOutcastSabotageGallowwalkersTucker & Dale vs. Evil)

My score for Terminator: Genisys: 65.

A case of mistaken identity, Terminator: Genisys is nowhere close to what it should have been but Taylor’s best efforts to suck this film dry of life or entertainment are stifled by Arnold’s first true comeback role and Jason Clarke’s portrayal of Connor against the unbeatable odds stacked against him. It is a fun sequel but certainly not a good one. It’s fair and it’s better than Terminator Salvation, but a film this poorly directed has no invitation to compete with Cameron’s imaginations. Perhaps it can compete with Rise of the Machines, but I’ll have to watch the series again before I can decide. My disappointment notwithstanding, please put a much-deserved win on the board for Arnold.

*SPOILER ALERT* IF YOU DON’T WANT THE MOVIE SPOILED, STOP READING!!!

*SPOILER’S EDITION*

The big spoiler that the second trailer highlights is that John Connor has been taken over by the terminators…or decided to destroy the world. One of the two. I don’t really know.

The thing is, in both the movie and the Wikipedia plot summary, it says something to the effect of the terminators captured John and infected him. What he’s infected with I don’t know but he’s now made of nanorobotics. It also seems improbable that John is under mind control because he tells Kyle Reese, Sarah and the Terminator what happened to him and that he’s been tasked with the survival of Genisys.

Regardless of what actually occurs here, the Terminator franchise essentially killed their star hero that has been the focus of all these films from the beginning. Not since Spider-Man 3 has a film taken its main character and disfigured him in such an extreme way. This, I assume, is the biggest reason that Genisys has tanked at the box office and has been mercilessly assaulted by critics. They took the hero, the cornerstone of this franchise’s legacy and they destroyed him and to make matters worse, turned him into the villain to continually remind us of their horrible experiment. It did not ruin the film for me, but it definitely took 15 points off the top and for many fans, much more than that.

Now, to editing. When Kyle and Sarah first time travel to 1984, the Genisys clock says 11 hours. They are transported in the middle of the highway and cause a lot of accidents, are arrested and taken to the police station. When they get to the station, we see the clock says 4 hours. It took 7 hours for the police to arrest them, which happened almost immediately after they got there and to take them to the station…

In a later press conference at Genisys, the clock says 21 hours till initiation. This is one of the most notable, unintentional plot holes I’ve seen in a long time. I have no clue how everyone missed that.

In a scene later in the movie, Connor pulls the ignition out of a school bus Sarah, Kyle and Arnold are in. The bus is driving along the Golden Gate Bridge and is shown flipping front first, vertically, along the bridge, but in the next shot, the bus is shown flipping horizontally, spanning side to side, something that is physically impossible.

Finally, in Sarah’s flashback to when her family is killed, she jumps into a lake and hides under the dock and hears her house explode with her parents inside. Arnold comes walking along the dock and sees her through the boards, picks her up and carries her away from the danger. It is worth noting he is carrying Sarah Connor with one arm and in his other arm? A bazooka. You would think a correlation between an exploding house and a terminator carrying a bazooka could be found, but Sarah never notes any suspicion of that, nor is the flashback mentioned again.

That, my friends, is stupid writing.

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Movie Review: Cyborg

Jean-Claude Van Damme. It was an unknown name to me prior to The Expendables 2. Even then, I said, “Who?”

As someone who is still widening their tastes in the fields of movies, television, music and literature, it seems only fair to investigate these names from cinema’s anthology, to view every kind of film and lay in concrete what is suitable for me and what is clearly not.

I will get to the award-worthy films that have skipped past me the last few years, but I also find myself enjoying laying back, easing my nerves and watching a film try to win me over, even when the deck seems dealt against them. It gives me an odd sense of satisfaction.

1989’s Cyborg was not one of these films, nor was it an award-worthy film. It was not a genre-defying film or a “so bad, it’s good” film. It was an atrocious audacity that violated basic human rights.

I wanted to burst out in a fit of agony, Albert Pyun’s piece is so derelict. Heinously irresponsible in his directing and storytelling, Pyun’s Cyborg features many replicas to Van Damme’s first film, Bloodsport, which I watched recently. There is a scene in Bloodsport where Van Damme’s eyes are caught by a samurai sword and we flashback to when he first saw it. Then the camera retreats back to Van Damme’s gaze before returning back to the flashback. This sequence of events is taken verbatim from that film and thrust into Cyborg in the opening stage, a gross example of material stealing.

There is close to no background information volunteered. A plague has decimated the world, or so we’re told, but we will see no instance of the plague’s destructive capabilities aside from a brief moment where we see someone struck with boils. How the plague is transmitted or what you do to avoid it is never stated or brought up. You would think that a fear of contracting this lethal animal would lead to certain precautions for our characters, but you would be wrong.

In a world where the plague is not feared by our characters, which is probably a leading factor in the world’s now declining population, you can turn people into cyborgs. The person who undergoes this operation so that she can retrieve data in New York that could lead to a cure is called Pearl Prophet.

Originality, creativity and imagination are three of the leading qualities you should look for if you ever have the need to hire a screenwriter. If I hired a screenwriter and they presented that name to me, I would fire them on the spot.

This person is also not our main character, but the film will be entitled Cyborg for reasons unknown. Deeper into the grave Pyun goes.

Naturally, there are a group of ravenous thugs who enjoy murder and general lunacy and will provide the insanity and tension that Pyun requires. Rather than controlled barbarianism, chaos is the order of business and at the same time, not. Fender Tremolo (Vincent Klyn) leads a pack of seemingly uncontrollable butchers but they will follow orders when the script demands them to.

That is but one of Cyborg‘s irreparable flaws. At no point does Cyborg become a desecrated world overflowing with psychosis and unhinged madness. It is a rabid monstrosity on a leash, which naturally diminishes the fear and realism such a beast would create. Animalism is not created to be controlled nor can it be, but I assure you Pyun will do that because he wants to. At many points, I felt Pyun wanted to mimic the pure hysteria that George Miller created with Mad Max. While Mad Max does not hold much fancy for myself, there’s no denying Miller’s perhaps perturbing ability to create natural delirium. Evidenced by Cyborg‘s ineptitude and all too-structured story, Pyun did not read any dark literature or visit films now famous for said quality. The fool thought he’d just do it.

Such incompetence is unconditionally idiotic. The deepest fires of my soul raged in fury during all of Cyborg‘s eternity-feeling 82 minutes knowing that. Every cell in my body bubbled with abhorrence and every muscle tightened with angst. What vile disregard for storytelling, characters and general entertainment!!!

So Albert Pyun had better never step foot in front of me or I will deliver a tirade with no boundaries and verbally abuse him in a way he never dreamed of.

Of course, with Cyborg as evidence, I could probably throw farther than he could think.

The music beds constructed for this film are ceaselessly repetitive and strike disconcerting chords again and again. Its pique will arouse conniption and resonate a toddler’s tantrum only less pleasant, which I assure you is humanly possible. It is one of the worst soundtracks I’ve ever heard and what’s worse is that Pyun enjoys it. Rather than write some decent dialogue, more insufferable beds will be shifted under scenes of characters staring or sharpening knives. The composition of these sounds reaches such putrid limits and the dialogue so caveman-esque you want to watch Cyborg on mute. You probably wouldn’t miss anything. The story is toddler simple in its basic form and the subplots are so unbelievable they accrue no care or interest. In yet another Van Damme film, the writers attempt yet another forced, futile romance. Bloodsport, Cyborg and Kickboxer were Van Damme’s first three films and all three carry over this vain ploy. Cyborg‘s is the most forlorn and pitiful, although pitiful is the wrong word because it is far beyond my pity. How about fruitless?

Speaking of death, how about the dialogue? All three of Van Damme’s first three films had stretches of subpar to terrible dialogue, but Cyborg beats them all. Van Damme’s character, who will remain nameless for the majority of the film, is void of emotion. He’s bent on revenge, or so we’re told but runs idle for all of the film, making the subplot that any woman would be interested in him all the more despairing. Van Damme was told to play a terminator with less life than Schwarzenegger or had no cares saved for this production. Every line of dialogue, no matter how minute, is delivered like it weighs more than Moby Dick. There is no argument as to why this is but the exacerbated pronunciation never leaves. Pyun welcomes an anchor composed of nuisances with open arms. He welcomes pain and gift wraps if for the audience that was misguided enough to try to view this. He is a sick man.

The acting isn’t any better. It’s all awful. Vincent Klyn plays Fender and has these overly bright blues eyes that look artificial. I can’t believe that’s his natural eye color. Rather than intimidating, Fender is a raving clown. His best dialogue is inarticulate roars.

Once again, if you’re new to my blog, I’ve always ranked movies on a scale of 0-100 (I don’t know why, I just always have). Here’s the grading scale.  

90-100  It’s a great movie and definitely one worth buying. (Avengers: Age of UltronThe AvengersThe BabadookInterstellarChappie)

80-89   It was a pretty good movie and definitely one worth seeing, but it doesn’t quite scratch my top ten percentile. (The Cable GuyThe Cabin in the WoodsTears of the SunEdge of TomorrowThe Amazing Spider-Man 2)

70-79   It’s okay but I’ve seen better. It has its moments, but it has its flaws, too. (Anchorman 2: The Legend ContinuesLeon: The ProfessionalEnemySleeping with the EnemyEquilibrium)

60-69   It’s got plenty wrong with it but I still got enjoyment out of this one. (Black SheepTwistedParkerHouse at the End of the StreetThe Raven)

50-59   This movie isn’t intolerable but it’s not blowing my mind either. I’m trying really hard to get some sort of enjoyment out of this. (The SentinelMad Max: Fury RoadBlitzThe PunisherDrive Hard)

40-49   This movie is just mediocre. It’s not doing anything other than the bare minimal, so morbidly boring that sometimes I’m actually angry I watched this. (The Lost BoysZombeaversCrankErasedI, Frankenstein)

30-39   Definitely worse than mediocre, the 30′s ironically define the 1930′s, full of depression, lack of accomplishments, poverty and just so dumb. (CenturionPlanet of the ApesStonadosRedemptionPride and Prejudice)

20-29   What did I just watch? Cliches, stupidity, nothingness, did I mention stupidity? Just…wow. (The Boy Next DoorThe ColonyIn the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege TaleThe GreyX-Men: Days of Future Past)

0-19      Watching this movie resulted in one or more of the following: seizure, loss of brain cells, falling asleep/unconsciousness, feel you wasted your time/day, accomplished nothing for you, left the movie knowing less about it then you did going into it, constantly asking yourself why you came to see this movie, or near-death experience. In short, staring at a wall was just as entertaining as watching this movie. This movie deserved a sticker or a label that said, “WARNING: EXTREME AMOUNT OF SUCKAGE.” (OutcastSabotageGallowwalkersTucker & Dale vs. EvilSafe)

My score for Cyborg: 14.

This movie undoubtedly belongs in the darkest crevices of Satan’s realm. Its comeuppance for one of the worst of all-time is well-deserved and then some. There are multiple plot holes, like Van Damme and his lady friend traveling from New York to Atlanta on foot and beating Fender and his gang there. Fender and his gang took a steam boat and had at least a five-hour head start. There’s the chase scene through the sewers that goes on forever with running and lots of yelling. There’s Van Damme being beaten to a pulp by Fender. After being crucified for at least 12 hours, he gets free and the screenwriters say Van Damme beats Fender and his gang to Atlanta after Fender got a half-day head start. There are more but you know what? I’m done. Cyborg is one of the worst films I’ve ever seen and I’m not spending a second more of my time on this nuclear waste.

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