Draylen Mason Studio
Come On, Lighten Up, 'Rambo' Is Great Fun
RECEIVED Sat., Feb. 2, 2008
Dear Editor,
I’ve come to do what the American government never did: defend John Rambo. Steve Davis’ review of Rambo [Film Listings, Feb. 1] reads like that of a man who went to McDonald’s, ordered the Big Mac, and then left in a huff when it wasn’t fillet mignon. Mr. Davis, does it really “boggle the mind,” or is it just so deliciously simple and authentic that it’s blowing your mind? The Rambo films – all of them – represent the absolute finest in American hero-worship, where most action movies pale in comparison. Doesn’t anyone want to go and yell for/laugh at the audacious hero anymore? Rambo is complicated, believe it or not, in that it invites you to giggle wildly at its outrageous impossibility, yet leave you feeling empowered with its one-man-vs.-the-world innocence. Despite Davis’ incredulity, those movies are powered by two pillars crucial to the identity of Americans: individuality, and the power of chimerical stories to embolden that individuality. Never mind that the history and ethos of the films is pretty right on (if, in retrospect, pretty basic). In the latest installment, Smith is put off by the villain’s characterization as a pedophile, but if he knew anything about the past and present of the region in which it was filmed, he’d know that the child sex-slave trade is one of its primary industries. I don’t think Sylvester Stallone employed that subplot strategically, but rather as a mea culpa for having filmed the movie in Thailand, a nation whose government is notorious for its encouragement of such hideous crimes against humanity.
Now, as an enthusiast of films from A to B (God, give me more C!), I can appreciate how Rambo doesn’t appeal to the intellect in the ways a possibly haughty film reviewer might require (I saw There Will Be Blood last night, and think it was one of the best American films ever made). However, all the Rambo films express an iconic philosophy worth enjoying, without the immediate scholarly impulse toward logic. These movies are supposed to be fun! And they make a lot of people happy, like countless other pop culture chestnuts, which remain unfashionable in the hipster holodeck of irony.
I’m an unlikely fan, as a woman, almost 30, and as politically progressive as they come (I like to think). But I can say, with no hesitation, when cherry-picking from the pantheon of modern superheroes, my choice is clear.
When I grow up, I want to be just like John Rambo.
I’ve come to do what the American government never did: defend John Rambo. Steve Davis’ review of Rambo [Film Listings, Feb. 1] reads like that of a man who went to McDonald’s, ordered the Big Mac, and then left in a huff when it wasn’t fillet mignon. Mr. Davis, does it really “boggle the mind,” or is it just so deliciously simple and authentic that it’s blowing your mind? The Rambo films – all of them – represent the absolute finest in American hero-worship, where most action movies pale in comparison. Doesn’t anyone want to go and yell for/laugh at the audacious hero anymore? Rambo is complicated, believe it or not, in that it invites you to giggle wildly at its outrageous impossibility, yet leave you feeling empowered with its one-man-vs.-the-world innocence. Despite Davis’ incredulity, those movies are powered by two pillars crucial to the identity of Americans: individuality, and the power of chimerical stories to embolden that individuality. Never mind that the history and ethos of the films is pretty right on (if, in retrospect, pretty basic). In the latest installment, Smith is put off by the villain’s characterization as a pedophile, but if he knew anything about the past and present of the region in which it was filmed, he’d know that the child sex-slave trade is one of its primary industries. I don’t think Sylvester Stallone employed that subplot strategically, but rather as a mea culpa for having filmed the movie in Thailand, a nation whose government is notorious for its encouragement of such hideous crimes against humanity.
Now, as an enthusiast of films from A to B (God, give me more C!), I can appreciate how Rambo doesn’t appeal to the intellect in the ways a possibly haughty film reviewer might require (I saw There Will Be Blood last night, and think it was one of the best American films ever made). However, all the Rambo films express an iconic philosophy worth enjoying, without the immediate scholarly impulse toward logic. These movies are supposed to be fun! And they make a lot of people happy, like countless other pop culture chestnuts, which remain unfashionable in the hipster holodeck of irony.
I’m an unlikely fan, as a woman, almost 30, and as politically progressive as they come (I like to think). But I can say, with no hesitation, when cherry-picking from the pantheon of modern superheroes, my choice is clear.
When I grow up, I want to be just like John Rambo.
Sincerely (and with a good supply of body bags),
Teighlor Darr
Teighlor Darr
