First Action Hero

They say that it's easy to criticize than to actually do, and hey, we agree! It's also fun! So join us for another edition of "Locker Room Analysis", where we wrap a towel around our midsection and levy judgment on some of the most famous plays of all time. Pass the Gatorade.

Taking One For The Team

• The Play: Bad Man #45 draws a bead on the Hero™, who cannot possibly dodge a gunshot at that range. Suddenly, Nerdy Sidekick™ does a fancy leap into the air, shouting "NOOOOOOOoooo!", and falls to the ground -- taking the bullet instead.

• Analysis: Unless Nerdy Sidekick™ is made out of 65% Kevlar and bulletproof glass, there is a distinct probability that the bullet wouldn't politely stop in the middle of his spleen. Rather, Nerdy Sidekick™ would get them both plugged, and Bad Man #45 would spend years after that regaling his buddies in the break room about the day he got two idiots with the same shot. This is why we suggest that Nerdy Sidekick™ carry around a small dog for added stopping power.

Even Cap'n Kirk Gets A Final Speech

• The Play: Any significant character (significant in having a first name), having been fatally wounded (and not recovering from a minor arrow scratch) gets time to gasp out one final, passionate speech before gasping and turning the head to the side.

• Analysis: Geez, you'd think they were getting a hernia checkup and not dying. Not that the MRFH medical staff has done illegal experimental tests in this subject, but we're fairly sure that if we were dying, we wouldn't be reciting the Gettysburg Address or inspiring our friend to go on and Make A Difference. Chances are much more likely of said character howling, "Crap, that HURTS! Like, bad or something! Owwwww!" Also, even the toughest of manly men should be shown sucking on their thumbs and crying out for Mommy. Women, in a similar fatal situation, should be seen looking down at the hole where their thorax used to be and going, "You think this is bad? You've never had to experience childbirth! Or a monthly period!"

Shot Through The Shoulder, And You're To Blame

• The Play: Hero™ gets plugged in the shoulder. Grimaces. Grabs it, then keeps on going. Minutes later, the gunshot wound looks as bloody as a gruesome mosquito bite, and has about the same effect on performance.

• Analysis: While we all appreciate how incredibly studly this makes the Hero™ look, it casts some serious doubts on all the sissies we know who bother going to the E.R. for a gunshot to the shoulder. Rub some dog spit into the hole -- it has curative properties, look it up -- and get on with your life already! We always marvel at how movie bullets are smart enough to dodge two fairly large veins running through the arm and shoulder, never nicking a-one and causing blood to start spurting out like a demonic Super Soaker.

Two Guns Are Like One Gun, Just Twice That

• The Play: Seeking to impress the easily impressionable junior high boys of the world, our Hero™ is never content dealing death with merely one hand -- it's got to be two blazin' pistols, which is really cool until it comes time to scratch an itchy nose.

• Analysis: We appreciate the mentality that if one thing is good, two is twice that good. Thus, we propose that all movie characters be dealt dual items. Cooks with double spatulas! Cop departments with twin expendable rookies! Fran Dreschner with two loud, braying mouths! Dual love interests! Doublemint Gum! The only downside we can see, from our playback tape, is that no matter how skilled you are with a firearm, shooting two at the the same time will result in the type of recoil and accuracy typically seen in a nursing home dart board contest.

Quip Pro Quo

• The Play: Faced with a mortal, dire, and otherwise dangerous situation, the Hero™, Nerdy Sidekick™, Supreme Villain™, and Helpless Love Interest™ all resort to witty weapons of words, not of... well... actual weapons. Which might hurt more. Sticks and stones and all that.

• Analysis: People like to talk and to hear themselves talk, and this cannot be denied. But if the Hero™ barely survived a vicious attack by knocking the Henchwoman™ (there's an equality union) into a pit of lava, we somehow doubt his mind will be up to par with creating a delicious pun, along the lines of "Hot stuff, coming through!" More likely, his brain on an adrenaline rush and rather glad not to be the one being slow roasted to perfect juicy tenderness, the Hero™ will begin to say, "Hot pants... um..." and then sputter to an unsatisfying conclusion.

Fire Is No Match For Cheetah-Man!

• The Play: Ooh, pretty explosion. Possibly caused by a fragment grenade, a lipstick tube full of C4, or even a particularly gassy bovine. Hero™ stares in horror for a full ten seconds at the oncoming fireball, and then manages to outrun it to safety.

• Analysis: Everyone pretty much agrees that without two things, the Hero™ would have to spend the remaining ten days of his life doing heroic things in the intensive burn ward unit of the local hospital. Fortunately, all Heroes™ and Heroines™ are equipped with a fancy remote control that can be used for its "SLOW" function. All fireballs are positively glacial when put through a good dosing of slo-mo. Additionally, the Hero™ knows that fire can only hurt you when your feet are touching the ground -- like electricity -- and thus does a flying leap into the air at the exact moment of flammable impact. No harm, no foul.

License To Drive Over

• The Play: The Hero™, chasing the Supreme Villain™ or perhaps even Celine Dion, commandeers any vehicle nearby to go on a city-wide destruction derby.

• Analysis: The sad truth is that while it looks like a blast to just jump into a car and start plowing through crowded city markets, the auto insurance premiums for all Heroes™ are the most expensive policies known to man. Even doctors pay less to malpractice insurance than Heroes™ do to vehicular manslaughter insurance. In addition, the city holds all those participating in an extreme chase accountable down to the dollar amount of property damage caused, plus a five dollar fee per pedestrian whacked.

Kid In Play

• The Play: The plucky Child Sidekick™ avoids all death and harm (but not kidnappings), even when in a Hong Kong tea house where the atmosphere is more lead than oxygen.

• Analysis: Now, this is just silly. From what little we know about the rare species of human larva, kids can take a bit of being bounced off the walls, raquetball-style, but little else. Any kid in a drawn-out gunfight would be little more than a modified plastic duck at a shooting gallery; small, but appealing as a moving target. Thus, we suggest that the Hero™ bring a few backups in dehydrated powder form (thanks, Batman!) just in case he needs another valuable distraction to take the fire off of him long enough to shoot down the chandelier hanging over the bad guys' heads.

Hit Me Baby, One Last Time

• The Play: The Supreme Villain™, being bested in both missile and melee combat, is down for the count. Or IS he? Suddenly, a dark figure lurches out of the flaming house, gun in hand, looking for some last minute revenge. Fortunately, he's as punchy as a leprechaun on St. Patty's Day, and the Hero™ easily grants him a few new blowholes.

• Analysis: We end this article with an impassioned plea to the beaten Supreme Villain™. Please, if you're granted a second chance by not dying outright due to a steel girder through the chest, perhaps you should think better of a desperate lunge attack. Just slink away into the shadows, find some bactine and check yourself in to the nearest hospital for some well-deserved R&R.