Failure Bread

Subtitled:  Why ‘The Spirit’ wasn’t as good as ‘Sin City.’

Today, friends, I would like to announce a great psychological discovery.  The affliction I will soon describe has occurred throughout history, but I have finally taken the initiative to not only name it, but also to suggest treatment options.

It is called: “Review-Aggravated Waste Realization” or RAWR for short.

RAWR occurs shortly after an individual thoroughly enjoys an entertainment stimulus, such as a new album, novel, or movie.  And I don’t just mean kind of liked said entertainment, I mean really enjoyed the shit out of it.  Loved it like Tammy Faye loved hairspray, like St. Sergius loved St. Bacchus, like leprechauns love cardboard-and-marshmallow cereal, like Cary Elwes loves sucking at an American accent.

Anyway, after the initial pleasurable experience, the individual later reviews the awesomeness that they witnessed, either by talking it over with someone else, reading a review, or even just going it over in their own mind.  Slowly, the individual begins to realize that the movie, book, or album was actually…* not that good at all.

In extreme cases of RAWR, the individual may actually come to hate the entertainment stimulus and regret wasting their money on it, even though they fucking loved it the first time they experienced it.

Although no one specific factor has been determined as the sole cause of RAWR, several theories exist.  One such thoery is the opposite of “Good Review Syndrome,” a related disease which occurs when everyone you have ever met tells you great a movie is and you get so excited, thinking that seeing this movie will finally help you achieve that pesky Nirvana you’ve been after, and then you see it and you think, “Meh.  That was okay.  It didn’t live up to the hype, though.”  The opposite of “Good Review Syndrome” then, is when someone tells you how great a movie is and you get so excited that actually believe it must be the best shit ever, and you continue to labor under that false pretense while watching the movie and even for a short time after.

I shall present a case study:

Last summer, we started seeing posters and teasers for ‘The Spirit,’ the lastest comic-book-turned-movie event.  The artwork was cool, very ‘Sin City,’ and I’m sorry, I could not get enough of the tagline, “My city screams.”  What imagery!  What drama!  What a cool movie this will be!

My sister managed to see it before me, which was slightly surprising, because I am usually at the midnight premiere of most comic book movies.  She has nothing but good things to say about it.  What entertainment!  What abs!

So she went to see it again, this time with me, and I have to say I was digging it.  What’s not to like?  Superheroes, Samuel L. Jackson, costumes, kitties, romance, treasure, photocopied asses - all good things.  What humor!  What classic camp!  What the fuck did Sam just do to Muffin?  What a cool movie!

What a fucking disappointment.

A few days later, I was reviewing the movie in my head, and something wasn’t sitting right with me.  For one thing, only one scene stuck out in my mind as being truly memorable.**  This is bad.  A truly great movie should have many scenes over which I may later gush and go, “Remember when that really cool thing happen?  That was awesome.”  But really, upon further review, the rest of the movie was just an occasionally-ab-streaked blur of melodramatic dialogue and boring fight scenes.  What’s great about a fight scene between two people who can’t die?!***  It’s one thing if the two characters are equally matched opponents, but if there’s no chance that either one of them will ever kick off?  Sorry.  Futility is funny, but only for thirty seconds or so.

I really had it pounded into my head that this movie was going to be the next ‘Sin City,’ a true opus of ass-kickery if ever there was.  I should have known that only the next ‘Sin City’ will be the next ‘Sin City.’****   But after the glowing reviews from my sister, who normally has not-retarded judgement, I was dead convinced of its greatness.

But a week later, I was left with twenty fewer dollars in my bank account, no good movie memories, and a piece of popcorn STILL lodged between my gum and back tooth, despite numerous vigorous brushings.  Thanks a lot, ‘The Spirit.’

Classic RAWR!*****

*Dum dum DAAAA!!!

**A scene I like to call “What smells dental?”, during which the Spirit has been captured and the Octopus (evil genius) and Silken Floss (his sidekick, and possessor of the franchise’s stupidest name) explain their entire dastardly plan while dressed as Nazis and melting a kitten.  Yes.  I said melting.  Stephie, don’t see this movie.

***Unless they are Johnny Depp and Geoffrey Rush, who could make a three-hour chess game look interesting if they really had to.

****Damn it, film faster!

*****Remember how I said I was going to offer treament options?  Way back in the first paragraph?  Well, I lied.  There’s no way to avoid this phenomenon.  Just live with it, like I had to.