Originally, I was going to post an article dealing with the many faces (one face) of Nicholas Cage, but apparently that has already been done. I suppose it's just as well, considering I was bumped for the Friday post due to some wanker's need to go on about electric companies and cactus rape.
So, instead, I just went about my business and didn't give The Fuse Was Too Cold another thought. I figured that I had enough to do (and nothing really interesting to write about) that I could wait another seven days to get back to my weekly article. I put it out of my mind and set my eyes on entertainment. That's when the boyfriend put forth the possibility of seeing a showing of "Watchmen" at the cinema.
I'm a girl. I don't give a shit about comic book movies. But, I did like 300 and I'm sure that had nothing to do with dozens of bare chested, ripped men in capes. Or Gerard Butler's dreamy abs. Wait. What was I saying?Finding a showing to attend was an ordeal in itself. After several communication issues and misunderstandings we ended up not getting to the theatre until the 7 o'clock showing. I was trying for the 4 o'clock showing in hopes that there would be fewer mouth breathing teenage tossers in attendance. I deal with the sad future of civilization on a daily basis. I don't want to deal with them on my own time.
After some simply awesome previews (One cannot go wrong with a bare chested Hugh Jackman) the movie began. I could feel the nervousness from my boyfriend. Dragging your significant other to a movie such as this is a risky venture. You run the chance of her hating it, calling you a fan boy, and kicking you in the bollocks for making her watch grown men and women in capes parade around for over two hours. He had courage, that's for sure. Every now and again, I could see him glance in my direction to try to gauge my mood. A light, interested expression meant there was a slight possibility he was getting laid. A bored, aggravated look, on the other hand, meant there was a fair chance of a ball kicking. To be safe, he put the bag of popcorn over his manhood in an attempt to shield his own bag.
The truth is, I didn't really mind the movie. It was interesting and entertaining. I wasn't checking my watch in an effort to speed up time. The characters were intriguing and I had a pretty good time getting lost in the plot. It wasn't terribly complex or complicated and I didn't need to bone up on the graphic novel in order to understand what was going on. This was good for the boyfriend, since the odds of the two of us "boning up" improved.
However, I did notice an unsettling trend throughout the movie. There was a lot of bare ass in it. I mean A LOTof bare ass. I even overheard another patron utter "Doesn't anyone wear pants in this movie?" Amazing, that very thought crossed my mind.
There was tons of bare ass. There was:
Girl ass:
Doughy, pasty guy ass (although he looked pretty good in the Nite Owl suit)
And plenty of blue bare ass (as well as more than enough blue man junk flopping around)I searched long and hard in my memory to try to dredge up other comic book movies that showed so much bare ass. Batman? No, Tim Burton did us a favor by sparing us Michael Keaton's whiter than white ass. X-Men? No, I don't recall a lot of ass shots in that series. Although, I do have this strange need to see Patrick Stewart's ass.
Show me that money maker, Captain.Nope. I couldn't think of a more ass packed comic book themed movie. Ass packed? Wow, that sounds too much like... nevermind. Forget I mentioned it.
All that ass didn't hurt the film. But, it did make one wonder why the director needed so much bare bottom in his work. Is he expressing his need to bare as much ass as possible? Does he have a desire to moon the world with his ass- hearty blockbuster? What about his ass? Is he always pushing it in people's faces? Come on, Zack Snyder. Is this all a deeply rooted desire to bare your own assets?
Oh. That's what he looks like? Umm, OK. I think I can deal with that. Go ahead, Zack. Show me your ass. I can take it._________________________________________________________________
When not attempting to write for The Fuse Was Too Cold, Adel can be found weeping for mankind's future during the week and hitting Tresckow on the head with a tire iron on weekends.
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