“I’m Not the Bad Guy.”

Netflix’s Daredevil comes out tomorrow and nerds ’round the world are pretty jazzed about it — all except me, it seems. Don’t get me wrong: I do plan to watch the series. I even figure I’ll probably like it, assuming all the buzz it’s been generating for the past few weeks is worth a damn. But I’m just not as excited as I’d like to be, partially because I was underwhelmed by the first trailer, and partially because I’m — perhaps unfairly — annoyed by EW’s recent review, where they refer to it as a superhero show “specifically for grown-ups,” unlike all those other “juvenile” superhero TV shows that I’m passionate about. It’s interesting when a review makes you feel like a scolded child for enjoying something.

Anyway. New Daredevil got Mekaela and I talking about old Daredevil, naturally. People are eager to talk shit about that movie, and it’s not like I loved it, either, but I found myself wondering — was it really as bad as everyone said? People can be prone to over exaggeration, after all, and Ben Affleck’s been a pretty easy target for the last fifteen years or so. Then again, that’s basically what I thought about Fantastic Four, too (sans Affleck, obviously), until I rewatched it last year and discovered, No, it really IS a pretty crappy movie. I felt like I needed to give Daredevil the same chance.

My verdict?

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Well, let me put it this way: Daredevil the TV show? It can’t possibly be any worse.

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“You Go Through All This And It Comes Down to Some Bullshit Guess?”

Many a post ago, I expressed interest in seeing a horror movie version Jumanji. Cause how awesome would that be, right? Well, Teacups helpfully commented that someone actually did make a horror movie version of Jumanji. Intrigued, I looked up the film, and with the winning combination of Eliza Dushku and that guy from Under the Dome, I was pretty sure Open Graves would be a solid bid for either Bloody Hearts or Splatterfest. Which is another way of saying that it looked terrible.

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People. I was not wrong.

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“IT HAS BEGUN!”

Obsessively watching Teen Wolf and Sheriff Johnny Cage reminded me of something last week: I have never actually written a review for Mortal KombatMortal Kombat: Annihilation, yes. But Mortal Kombat itself? Nope.

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This is one of my favorite guilty pleasure movies ever. Keep that in mind while I occasionally and lovingly rip it to shreds.

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“That’s Not A Plan. That’s a Shit Sandwich Without Bread.”

Many years ago, I watched the original Red Dawn. I know I did. I actually remember sitting down to watch it. And yet . . . and yet it’s like the entire experience was wiped from my mind, like something traumatic happened that my brain overwrote to protect itself. Aliens, I don’t know. The point is, it’s all gone.

At some point, I may revisit that past trauma. In the meantime, I decided to just watch the remake instead.

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This probably doesn’t come as a shock, I’m sure, but it’s not very good.

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“Just Fix My Body . . . And Leave My Soul to Me.”

Sometimes, I’m lazy. Okay, often I’m lazy. And when my sister watches a movie without me — especially when it’s one I have no interest in at all — I’m like, hey, why don’t you write a review of that? And, very occasionally, she does:

Greek mythology is a love of mine, so I will watch just about anything having to do with it, from cheesy action flicks to animated Disney films and so forth. So, when Wrath of the Titans came on TV, I decided to DVR it, even though I heard it was supposed to suck.

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Yeah, it kind of sucked.

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“While You Were Still Learning How to Spell Your Name, I Was Being Trained to Conquer Galaxies!”

All right, folks. The Day of Reckoning has come.

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Some of you may remember that I failed last year’s horror film challenge and, as a result, invited you to choose my punishment movie. You chose Battlefield Earth because you’re horrible monsters, all of you.

Now that I’ve finally seen this movie, I feel qualified to say that nobody deserves this film inflicted upon them. No one.

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