What do you get when you put Rambo, The Transporter, The Punisher, The One, Johnny Handsome, John McClane, The Terminator, American Streetfighter and a couple of wrestlers into one movie? The Expendables, bitch!
Sylvester Stallone’s action opus is struck from the ol’ mercenaries-on-a-mission template, like The Dirty Dozen or even Inglourious Basterds, minus eight Oscar nominations. Stallone, Jason Statham, Jet Li, Dolph Lundgren, Randy Couture and Terry Crews comprise The Expendables, a “fry or die” freelance team hired to go to some foreign island and take down a surly dictator, played by that chubby detective from Dexter who always wears the hat. (Here, he wears a beret.)
As expected, the script is stupid, the acting is atrocious, but the action scenes are kick-ass — gratuitous, over-the-top violence where bad guys can get sliced in two with the flick of a knife. In other words, when’s the freakin’ sequel? Next time, Sly, you need to throw in Blade, The Glimmer Man, Snake Plissken, The Marine, Bloodfist, American Ninja, The Perfect Weapon and — oh, what the hell — Lionheart. Certainly they can’t be all that busy. —Rod Lott
The French film is spooky, thanks mostly to Christiane’s mask, a blank stare that no doubt influenced Michael Myers’ emotionless cover. Franju aims for a marathon, not a sprint, with deliberate pacing that gets you involved with the characters. In other words, this is an intelligent film that just happens to appeal to base senses, with evocative photography and a memorable score, which sounds like the theme from 