I just saw the movie Push.

I know I’m a little late in the game, but I want this recorded so that future generations will know.

The children, I think of them.

Now, I love super-humans.  I watched Jumper twice, even though Hayden Christiansen is, even without Lucas’ help, a terrible actor.  I loved the first two X-Men movies.  But I also loved Waitress, because it showed a different kind of superhuman, the kind I find more likely, in her case, the artist/empath expressing herself through pies.  And Happy Feet was a spiritual mind-blower, with Mumble the Penguin as the avian Muad’Dib.

But sometimes you get the gom jabbar, and that movie is Push.

A truism I’ve come to believe is that any movie that begins with a long-winded narration is gonna suck.  This one began with a bad novella.

It started off almost cool.  Then I quickly learned to hate the Nick the Hero.  Then I learned to hate his little gal pal.  Then I kind of wished that we could see more of the  interesting supporting characters.  Then I realized that Nick the Hero would keep tailgating their lives, thereby laming those stories too.

Then I started fantasizing about the Watchmen trailer I’d seen before the movie.  Then I started fantasizing about the trailer for Crank 2: High Voltage.  It looks absolutely terrible, but it made me laugh.

I began to think about how watching a movie is like going out on a date.  Here’s me and Push, arm-in-arm, stepping out for a night together.  But this date sucks, and I didn’t realize it until we had already ordered appetizers and the waiter was on his way back to take down our entrees.  She’s yammering and here I am thinking about the hostess and some good-looking but utterly crazybones tattoo aficionado I’d seen leaving with another guy.  And I’m already hoping that my own date doesn’t want dessert and smooches on her doorstep before I can go home and wash the stank of her off.

…and then I’m still watching the movie, sweet memories of Jason Statham fading like shower steam to reveal the horror of a filthy bathroom.

My reward for not leaving and maybe catching the last few minutes of Underworld: Rise of the Lycans?  Several plot points left unresolved, a hero who didn’t really save the day, and absolutely zero interest in seeing the necessary and inevitable sequel.

If this movie were a song, it would be “Seventeen” by Winger.  Sure, it fills the need for a rock song, but there’s been better before, and there will be better later.  All it does is fill in the gaps on your crappy Mixtape of Pussy-Pussness.  When a better song comes along, you’ll forget you even heard it.

Better yet, check out the video.  It takes less time to watch than Push, and check out Kip Winger’s wolfen teeth and mane.  Rise of the Lycans, indeed!

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