Hard Target (1993)

So I watched this movie more than two weeks ago, and I'm just now getting around to posting on it. It's actually a good thing I took notes (am I nerdy or what?), because I could only remember one thing about this magnificent movie: nothing could suck that hot and harrowing image of Jean-Claude's greasy mullet curls swinging silently in the wind with each windmill kick. Oh Jean-Claude. only you could surf a dirt bike while killing people and simultaneously rocking the August look for a '93 copy of Hairdresser's Weekly. But is this really a Jean Claude movie? I mean, he's in it. But there's no raunchy sex with a glistening and flexing side view of JC's right cheek! Why did I even watch it?! I'm going to go ahead and blame that on John Woo, who, like Jackie Chan, seems almost creepily asexual on film. What's up with that? However, that could explain why Kurt Russell was considered and dismissed for the protag role. Only a sexless being could turn down that pile of sugar! On the other hand: how could you not know this was a John Woo movie with that funky fire and those darling doves everywhere? It's actually his first US movie, and I have to say, I think he done well. We already talked about JC and his sweet locks, but...there's more! My friend, Lance Henriksen boldly graces this godly ganglion. He's definitely my favorite weird-looking old guy. And with this film as my substantiating evidence: I always knew Lance could control the desert powers (I'm still debating as to whether I would prefer desert powers or dessert powers....oh the desserts....). And Lance is so sweet, his lackeys pay him! Now that's status! So basically, this movie is set in some sort of wife-beater and tight jeans wild wild West with horse battles and projectile weapons and oddly a giant Mardi-Gras swan where these rich creeps play a modern version of the deadliest game with ex-military bums and there are explosions and gun fights around every corner and JC is always there to save the day (no, the irony of his initials is not lost on me). Even the mummy can't bring him down! One thing is for sure: this movie would be like 20 gawdamn minutes shorter if they quit with the excessive slo-mo! I wonder what would happen if John Woo and Michael Bay made a movie together, or even worse, telepathically communicated secret messages of doom together - would the Universe collapse? Sucked in through the asshole of a white dove while dramatic world-ending music plays? You never know...

Final Judgment: "Jean-Claude ripping the rattle off a snake makes me tingle in an inappropriate and slightly nauseating way!/ Wow-za, it's a hair-off!/ Heavy on the wild west theme with plucky guit-tar = quick draw for the high-kick!/The flask will save you!