All in all the Olympics are dull. Snow is falling again. We’ve been snowed in for days. Result? Contrary to her her usual preferences, Mrs. Laird has seen a whole bunch of action movies in just twenty four hours. Hollywood Homicide. The Glimmer Man. Expendables 2. Mullholland Drive. And Man of Tai Chi.
Have to tell you, she enjoyed them all, except for maybe the one I hadn’t seen. Man of Tai Chi. Which I just loved. Critics way too harsh. Never seen a movie with so many hooks into so many other movies. The Chinese Connection. Kung Fu Panda. Kill Bill 2. The Matrix. Bloodsport. The Karate Kid. Kung Fu the TV series. And the proof that Keanu knew what he was doing. In the final confrontation, he’s confronted by the same arm choreography he used in The Matrix and he grunts in self-conscious recognition. It’s a masterful updating of Bruce Lee movies. Not only deft but eerie. The Chinese hero really looks like he could be Keanu’s son, which raises hints even of Taras Bulba.
Best thing. The missus finally gets how good Steven Seagal was before he got fat and scotch-faced. How many husbands can make the same claim about the perspicacity of their wives?
Of course, if you want to understand the uber-reality, you might want to go to Johnny’s Garage, where no one wants to go. Everybody thinks they’ll get killed at JD’s place. A sawbuck to anybody who doesn’t get lost there.