While circumstances prevented us from doing so sooner, last night Scott and I took in a showing of the Robocop remake.
I have to say that I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected to, though to be fair, they did kind of stack the deck a little in terms of casting, what with Gary Oldman, Samuel L. Mother-Fuckin’ Jackson, and Michael Keaton – whom I discovered that I’ve forgiven for the godawful Batman movies he was in; I still hate them, but I’ve dropped my grudge against him – though the actual title character was just sort of…there. Never heard of the guy before.
With the original, Peter Weller was already a personal favorite, thanks to his role in Buckaroo Banzai.
(Plus, the original also had Grig from The Last Starfighter)
Was it as good as the original? Well, the two movies were made in very different times – and to be fair, the original has nostalgia on its side – and took a very different approach to telling the story of a man who struggles to regain and hold onto what little of his humanity remains after his body and mind are rebuilt, but…no, it wasn’t.
Still, it was entertaining, and while it didn’t take the same sort of satirical approach as the original, the elements of satire it did contain were pretty well-done (though I will say that it was kind of jarring to see the kind of conservative anger that’s pretty much the exclusive province of white guys being delivered by a black guy, but if anyone could do it, it’s Samuel L. Mother-Fuckin’ Jackson).
In any case, in one scene relatively early on in the movie we’re introduced to Gary Oldman’s character, the genius doctor behind the cybernetic technology used to transform Alex Murphy into Robocop.
He’s consulting with a patient, a classical guitarist who lost his hands in an accident and is having difficulty coming to terms with his new, improved bionic hands.
Later – and this is one of the areas in which the remake departs radically from the original, though the relative lack of violence and the PG-13 rating are the biggest departures – Robocop/Murphy returns home to visit his family, and his son is reluctant to approach his Robodad.
If it were possible to replace my hands with bionic versions that are at least as functional as the factory defaults I’m stuck with, I would be looking for the nearest thresher accident.
Seriously, I have no interest in getting something like a nose job, I would totally be up for getting a hand job if it were possible to get cybernetic replacements as an elective procedure, at least once the technology – as it is in the movie’s futuristic setting – is at the right level.
(Note: I’d also be perfectly happy to accept a hand job of the more traditional, less technologically-advanced variety)
I mean, if nothing else, maybe the guitarist can’t keep playing guitar, but he could always pick up the holophoner.
Then there was the kid.
After observing his reaction to his upgraded dad, I leaned over to Scott and said, “His kid sucks.”
I mean, I loved my dad very much.
The only way I could have loved him more is if he had also been a robot.
Your dad is a fucking robot.
At a minimum, it would be the ultimate resolution to all playground disputes.
”My dad and beat up your dad!”
”Well, my dad is a fucking robot. So…no, he can’t.”