The Last Chance

We watched one of those rare movies the other night that was so bad, it actually was good.

Improbability piled on top of unlikelihood layered over with banality and stupefying inconsequence.

Other than that, it was quite good.

The first "humping scene" was one minute and ten seconds in. (We have a little pool every time we watch a movie. Usually if you choose any time within the first twenty minutes, you have a chance.) Why stick with it, why not scrap the tape and use it to record Debbie Travis.

Because this movie boggled the mind. Just when you said "it can't get any worse" it did.

But the definitively awful thing about it was the amount of gunplay.

Hi…I don't like your necktie…take that…blam blam.

In one memorable scene, the leading man ---HEY, LOOK AT ME, I'M DOING A BAD IMPRESSION OF PIERCE BROSNAN --- naked and in bed with an equally naked lady (well, I doubt she was much of a "lady") is interrupted by three gunmen.

He rises from the bed, a gun in each hand, which he uses to dispatch the bad guys. BLAM BLAM WHANG ZING BANG Actually, if they were trying to kill this character, they would have been GOOD guys.

But we continue to agonize over our handgun problem.

The reasons for it are pretty obvious when you watch a movie like this