It’s a movie, possibly a movie franchise in the offereing. Perhaps most telling, seeing it at the Alamo Drafthouse on opening night? The guy ahead of me in line looked like one of my fishing buddies. Boots, jeans, grizzled visage, worn by too much sun at one time, a ball cap and all he needed was a can of dip.
“No youngsters here.”
His “wife” (girlfriend), significant other, whatever she was, great 70’s hair. He looked down and scuffed the floor, “We ought to do this in the rent house,” nodding towards a stained conrete floor, “it’s easy to do. Last forever in a rent house.”
He drawled an observation about the crowd, all being older, and in the only action star from the 80’s who was missing? George Segal.
I watched Expendables, Part the First, on Netflix. Released in 2010, less than two years to get to Netflix. Not a good sign. But that made part the second, even more enjoyable.
The single identifable problem with part two? The sequel? There was a modicum of plot.
Action movie, action stars, action heros?
“We don’t need no stinkin’ plot!”
