My sister made me watch The Expendables. She did not mention that it was an action-horror movie. Every time there’s a close-up of Stallone or Lundgren: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Cautionary tale about mixing steroids, botox and cosmetic surgery. Or very white people not wearing sunblock in LA. (We’re Stallone’s eyebrows tattooed on?)
The Expendables opened in the US on the same week as Eat, Pray, Love. So the question was: What would you rather watch, action has-beens (except Jason Statham) killing an entire South American country, or a rich American woman finding herself by traveling to countries beginning in ‘I’?
The answer: First time in history that an Eric Roberts movie outgrossed a Julia Roberts movie. (How Julia’s reps can spin this: It took Stallone, Statham, Li, Schwarzenegger, Willis, Rourke, Lundgren, Austin, Couture, et al to beat Julia Roberts.)
Stallone co-wrote and directed The Expendables. The one-liners are flat, the action scenes cliché and eardrum-busting but passable. It’s the dramatic scenes—and there are lots of them!—that made me hide under the seat. Please let them be over, I can’t bear to look. (When Mickey Rourke begins his monologue about the girl in Bosnia, stuff your eyes with popcorn it’s less painful.)
It’s so Retro! It should be called D’Expendables. The cast should fly to Manila and go straight to Master Showman Walang Tulugan! Except Jason Statham, who should go straight to my house.
They forgot Jean-Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal. (Or they weren’t invited, which must really hurt.)
Stallone was never the most intelligible speaker, but now he needs to be subtitled. Still, he has proven that there is room in youth-obsessed pop culture for post-prime action stars flexing their leathery muscles. Cue theme from Rocky. Up those stairs, Sly!
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Correction from my sister: Van Damme was invited to join the cast but he declined because he felt the story was not strong enough. Obviously it did not have the depth of Bloodsport or Double Team.