Archives for posts with tag: Wesley Snipes

Expendables 3

Expendables 3 has hardly begun before the titular crew of mercenaries is massacring prison guards to liberate murderer Wesley Snipes. Typically for the series, the film simply expects the viewer to take for granted that the “good guys” would never shoot anyone undeserving of death. (Speaking of which, no Expendables review would be complete without the obligatory reference to how close to death some of these guys appear. “Relax. You’re gonna give yourself a stroke,” Stallone is warned before his upcoming adventure.)

This entry in the franchise does, however, evince more of something approximating a heart or emotional center in its plot involving renewed conflict between Stallone and treacherous ex-partner Mel Gibson, whose presence does much to enhance part 3. Gibson, now an arms dealer, has been deemed a war criminal, and CIA honcho Harrison Ford, in a role alluding to his turns as Jack Ryan in Patriot Games (1992) and Clear and Present Danger (1994), hires Stallone to retrieve him from Central Asia for trial at the Hague.

What ensues is tons of dumb fun, with better action scenes that dispense with the gallons of CGI gore on display in the previous outing. The viewer almost forgets what villains the heroes’ real-life counterparts are. A campy charm attaches itself, admittedly, to the wince-worthy scene in which Ford, providing air support for the beleaguered Expendables and obviously embarrassed by the unimaginative dialogue, half-heartedly mumbles, “Drummer’s in the house.” Expendables 3 is worth a rental for that moment alone.

4 out of 5 stars. Ideological Content Analysis indicates that Expendables 3 is:

7. Disingenously anti-torture. In one of the movie’s biggest unintentional laughs, CIA creep Harrison Ford complains that Gibson is responsible for the torture and killing of two of his men. As Gibson later says of Stallone’s character, “He thinks he’s the good guy.”

6. Pro-drug. There is a lighthearted feel to a scene in which Kelsey Grammer’s flying is impaired by his drunkenness. The Expendables get together to drink in celebration of a successful mission, while Dolph Lundgren, whose combat readiness is unaffected, just likes to drink for the picturesque hell of it.

5. P.C. Snipes objects to Stallone using “spook” with reference to a CIA agent.

4. Feminist. Ronda Rousey plays a tough-as-nails bouncer-cum-soldier whose looks conceal deadly fighting prowess. “Men,” she huffs with contempt before fatally shooting a man.

3. Anti-family. “If you’re lookin’ to go the family route, it’s the wrong job for you,” Stallone admonishes Rousey. “There are different kinds of family,” she replies. “And when my life is on the line, that’s my family fighting with me.” In other words, a gaggle of ragtag cutthroats is no less valid a pillar of personal and national stability than some old-fashioned assemblage of the biologically related.

2. Multiculturalist. In addition to two black Expendables and an Asian one, this third installment adds a Latino as a nod to that group’s demographic ascent, with Antonio Banderas providing some odd comic relief as a lonely acrobatic weirdo desperate for an excuse to machine-gun people.

1. Neoconservative. Like the other Expendables films, this third entry continues the work of conditioning the American male to accept overseas hellraising and mass murder as an exciting career opportunity, or at least as something deserving of their patriotic admiration. “I am the Hague,” Stallone says in triumph, alluding to his famous line from Judge Dredd (1995). In other words, the United States as the indispensable superpower and global force for gay, is exceptional in that it constitutes in itself – and even through the acts of its lowliest mercenaries – the world’s judge, jury, and executioner. “Very tribal,” Gibson says of the Expendables’ penchant for ritual murder – leaving the viewer to determine which Tribe he has referenced in his remark. As usual with this sort of movie, too, there is a dig at nationalist Russia, with Gibson spending some time there and giving the impression that Putin’s New Nazi Germany Russia is some sort of haven for evildoers.

The CIA no longer even cares if Americans know it conducts dirty wars through mercenary proxies. “This one’s off the books. I’m not even here,” says Ford, clearly thinking himself very cute. Those incorrigible Central Intelligence scamps! Oh, well – boys will be boys. Maybe a couple of decades from now, Hollywood will be making action movies celebrating the “ISIS” scam and the takedown of the evil Assad regime. “We killed a lot, but we saved more lives than you can possibly imagine,” Gibson excuses his days as a hired assassin for the Company. Whatever.

Rainer Chlodwig von Kook

Passenger 57 (1992)

Passenger 57 (1992)

A number of seemingly insignificant films of the 1990s, revisited in the context of the New World Disorder of the present millennium, yield disturbing resonances of what was to come. One such work is the Wesley Snipes action vehicle Passenger 57, a movie which, in addition to hosting much of its action aboard an airliner, is concerned with the rising specter of international terrorism.

Produced by Jonathan Sheinberg – who, this writer suspects, may be Jewish – Passenger 57 has Snipes playing counterterrorism expert John Cutter, goaded into taking a job as an airline’s security consultant. Before boarding the fatal flight that preoccupies him for the rest of the story, Cutter delivers a lecture on terrorism to his clients:

Do you know how many airlines have been hijacked in the last three years? [. . .] Twenty-seven. Almost every commercial airline in the world has had to cope with terrorism. All except one. The Israelis have never been fucked with. They never let them on the plane.

The lesson here is clear. If only the nations of the West would look to Israel for guidance – and place savvy blacks in positions of leadership, of course – the world could be spared this presently savage pandemic of skyjacking terrorism.

Later, when stopped by airport security, Cutter is made to pass more than once through a metal detector. “Ever notice how the real suspicious ones never seem to have any trouble?” he muses aloud. “Right,” agrees Cutter’s colleague Delvecchio (Tom Sizemore). “That’s how they get on the plane.”

The identity of this “they” and those “real suspicious ones” is unspecified, but the viewer, given the context of other remarks – as well as the long Hollywood tradition of caricaturing Muslims – is left to assume that Cutter and Delvecchio are referring to Arab terrorists. Charles Rane (Bruce Payne), the villain of Passenger 57, is a mad European and not an Islamic fanatic; but viewers are also informed that despite being “linked to several bombings in London and Ireland [. . .] because of his close ties to the Middle East, he’s been untouchable” – whatever that means.

Unfortunately for those who died on September 11, 2001, or as casualties of the wars that followed, American “security” was in Israeli hands at the key airports that day. ICTS International, an Israeli firm, had responsibility for “security” at each of the airports from which the “al Qaeda” hijackers are alleged to have embarked – and this same company also ran the “security” at the airports at which the “Shoe” and “Underwear” bombers boarded flights, in addition to having a hand in the London 7/7 event. Fortunately for ICTS, the Patriot Act just happened to include a provision precluding lawsuits against foreign “security” companies operating on 9/11.

9/11 provided the Orwellian pretext for the establishment of the Transportation Security Administration and the Department of Homeland Security, as Secretary of which Israeli citizen Michael Chertoff lined his pockets by hawking the body-imaging scanners that suddenly seemed so necessary in the wake of the “Shoebomber” and “Underwear Bomber” incidents. Understandably, Chertoff did not publicize the fact that body-imaging contractor Rapiscan was represented by his own Chertoff Group.

“Always bet on black,” Cutter advises the arrogant Rane in Passenger 57’s most quotable sass; but, given the subsequent turn of events on this chronically fucked-up Zionist-occupied planet, would he not have been closer to the mark to suggest that Rane and his fellow gentiles “always bet on Jew”?

Rainer Chlodwig von Kook

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