Like Father, Like Son

After The West Wing first aired, I came to think of Martin Sheen as a boring actor and was sick of hearing people say "I wish Josiah Bartlett was really our president." "Maaaaaan," I would think to myself, "screw Martin Sheen." Well, Badlands set me straight. He was amazing and wonderfully affectless as he carried out crime after crime and murder after murder. His face registered no disturbance as he committed atrocious acts and he really seemed to be an unfeeling sociopath, reminding me of his terrifying acting job in The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane.

Wasn't it stunning? You could look into those dark brown eyes and search far and wide but you still wouldn't find a soul.

He's a supercreep and he scared me into loving him. What else could I do?

You and Sissy Spacek both had no choice other then to fall for this nutjob. I would drop my normal life in a half second to ride shotgun with him, mowing people down and living it up on the lam.

You sound a little too excited by the prospect of harming innocent civilians. I'm trying to make the point that Martin Sheen played Kit so believably that I was whisked away into his swirling world of madness. I wouldn't really want to join him on the other side of the law.

Suit yourself, baby. Those people had what was coming to them. I applaud his stick-to-it-iveness and the dedication to his craft.

His craft?

Blind, random violence. I give it an 8 for it's ugly, pumping heart beating beneath a twisted buddy picture/road movie. And for the shooting and the 'splosions.

You must have loved Repo Man then.

Why?

Because it was an extended bad mood set to film, angry at the world and everything in it.

It was too arty. I prefer the straight ahead storyline of a shotgun blast to the gut. Repo Man was full of needlessly bizarre scenes and made no sense to me.

I loved all the weird touches like the proliferation of air fresheners, the generic food packaging and the intensely strange bar band who Otto complains about: "I can't believe I used to like these guys." Emilio Estevez shares his father's thousand yard stare and simmering anger.

His petulant whining made me furious as did everything else about this silly movie. Bad production values, horrible music on the soundtrack, an ending that made no sense. Boo to all that. If he were my son, I'd disown him. Charlie would never upset me like this. When are we going to review Major League II?