We just get shortchanged by what could have been a really fine film.
There is a pretty decent film laying under all that green screen.
Smoker, McClane, runs 30 miles in two hours.
Man in leather underwear controls the animals.
How terrifying it must be to realize that the person who has abducted you is completely mad and honestly thinks that you are a demon.
How much of the film is art and how much is some Euro realizing he can make a name for himself by throwing a couple of schlongs on the screen?
And what about the violence? Interestingly, it is both cathartic and orgasmic.
Futility and pain, then, rule the day.
Scumbags, Cokeheads and Stupid Chiefs all suck, Ka-boom.
Folks, I love Charles Bronson. His films are garbage, but he usually makes me smile with little effort.