Upsetting Day - Sucker Punch, Round IV

Thank you, Sucker Punch. Thank you, Zack. Thank you, ramping. I’m so much more now.

I’d grown weak in sanity. Fat on contentment and joy. The dead sex slaves on this empowering cover changed that. They warned me of the new world, where each screen hides spikes of white-hot nothing.

Not pain. Pain lives in the mind. To finish Sucker Punch a fourth time, you must find emptiness. Nito-ryu and Suker Punch share one lesson: erase the mind. Thought. Memory. Love. These trifles anchor you to Babydoll. No one anchored to Babydoll can make art or beat Eigong.

Pain is imaginary.

Anger is transient.

Hate doesn’t exist.

I‘m ready to review Sucker Punch.

The next delusion unfolds on a train. It’s our last action setpiece, and the emptiest. Lazing out on punching’s odd for a film called Sucker Punch. To certain starving minds, the dragons and nazi cyborgs offered novelty. Style, even, if you watched this with Lunchables. That spark’s dimmed.

I planned one of those shiny new clanker jokes. The trend fit Zack’s bot farm like a glove. Then, clanker jokes sprinted into standard hate and finger-wagging before press time. From the void, I appreciate a culture producing both, instantly, while invading itself. We play the fiddle, disavow the fiddle, and get crispy in unison.

Leaving more time for Sucker Punch. The extended cut.

Last round, Sucker Punch passed the runtime of a few classics. Disney’s take on Alice in Wonderland, for one. Alice tripped balls, crashed a country club, and fled court before Zack explained arson. If you came for plot, there’s no arc to recap. Stabbing? Glossy and artless. Tits? Dimly lit and tear-soaked. For all he wants to fuck his cast’s armpits, Snyder can’t communicate it.

Perfect training. Thank you, Zack. I’ll treasure the hour left.

Zack, as a connoisseur in preteen girls, invokes Wonderland in Sucker Punch. The Mouse’s version—there’s no reading in the void. You could, with a generous heart, let that excuse the sailor uniform, onion reality, and trash “White Rabbit” cover. In fact, let’s try it. The Alice in Wonderland connection’s deep and resonant. No child could surpass it with stick figures. Skottie Young didn’t say more with dick jokes. American McGee didn’t say more with edge. Sucker Punch comes out ahead of Depp’s limp Mad Hatter.

Back to reality.

Magic stripping doesn’t work out, leading to Rocket’s martyrdom by kitchen knife. You could call that a double beat with Babydoll’s martyrdom by lobotomy. And the death of every dancer but Sweet Pea. I encourage you to let go of time. Then all the sex slaves die in one moment.

Consider your choices. Option A:

Or Option B:

Isn’t that easier? They race to the grave either way.

For the first three rounds, I met the film on its terms. I mean it. I focused on music, action, structure, and performance, Sucker Punch’s alleged strengths. A trap I set in my old life. Fueled by hate, or boredom, or another memory. Today, I spring it out of inertia. There’s simply no reason not to. Zack, who lives off inertia from one trailer, might like that.

Let’s talk about the words.

The words are legion. Sucker Punch babbles and rambles and pontificates for two hours. It’s the first time I can relate to Zack. Each scene’s stuffed with audience torture and insults to Zack’s talent. It’s very possible I wrote Sucker Punch.

My theory? Fans of the action simply enjoy the brief silence.

Nevermind.

I’m more open to it now. Musicals, action films, and reality-warping fantasies rarely center monologues in empty rooms. Sucker Punch ends with three, uninterrupted by katana, dance, or upskirt. Three things I once loved. It all falls away for raw writing talent. And prostitute murder. Just assume a prostitute’s dying at all times.

The first speech is Sucker Punch’s low point.

We finally meet The High Roller, an enigmatic punter played by Jon Hamm’s undergrad choices. Frats deserve the same PSA heat as drunk driving, especially as training camps for drunk drivers. And crimes covered later in the next monologue. For now, here’s a few thoughts from God:

Not the worst words so far—in theory, the flick’s about objectification. We’ve just soared a few miles past the ironic margin. A future president might, in The High Roller’s chair, try “I love you for your mind.” The thing is, he’s been talking for a while. Here’s how he started:

That opener flies poorly off camera. And on camera. There’s a wrong way to kick off a virginity sale, and Zack found it.

Another student of the hollow mind. I rarely hear so many empty sounds without a dean resigning, but the High Roller gets there. There’s much to admire in Snyder’s sheer force as a fraud. He typed “In this world of lies” without irony and brute-forced it into theaters and dead tv channels around the planet. The rare self-fulfilling hackwork.

He’s the Boner Architect. Abandon your doomed quest and live on. In my pants. After a lifetime crafting synthetic stupidity, I’m humbled before the real deal.

The tone: the Architect wants to fuck Neo. The concept: the Architect wants to fuck Neo. The twist: the Architect fucks Neo braindead. Or rather, Zack Snyder’s philosophy seduces Babydoll, who gets lobotomized by the first thrust. The jump cut’s the best direction in the film, and gives way to more talking.

Before the void, I thought in black and white. Is there something about free will here, or just Zack’s wet daydream? Now, I see more nuance. This is a speech about free will and Browning lust. With a valid question: does Zack have free will when he’s down this bad? Or is he fate’s puppet, like all of us?

The second speech is Sucker Punch’s lower point.

Back in base asylum reality, Blue Jones (Oscar Isaac), wants in on sex crime podcasting. After three lobotomies to date, Babydoll’s brain activity’s now between a baby and a doll, and you should round down. Blue’s men take DollDoll to the asylum’s room for Joker sequels, where we learn a bit about what makes him tick. At length.

A botnet can only do so much.

The scene’s unsavable. For all his ability, Oscar’s bound by human notions of dignity and art. It’s tough viewing, like watching Houdini meet a fan.

Twenty minutes ago, Babydoll backflipped over killbots. But that’s all bullshit— Zack’s clever game. Now that Babydoll’s too lobotomized for Blue to get hard, she’s truly free. An empowered force of nature, immediately rescued by six men. It’s hard to believe what you’re watching, or that there’s half a tv episode of it left. Few minds are empty enough to finish Sucker Punch, and half of them are in the credits. But we’ll get there.

We’re close..

Our last monologue comes from Sweet Pea. With her friends and family dead, she has inspiring words for us. They worked: this speech inspired all four rounds. Zack’s closing argument unlocked something in me. Something old. The voice that once whispered “Abel thinks you’re a pussy.”

Fun scene.

Time to apologize. Zack’s not a fake artist, thinker, or ally. He’s a fake human. When you stick a Power Rangers cheer to a two-hour rape festival, you live outside mankind. Sucker Punch wears progress the way fungus wears flies. Or Zack wears skin.

I’ll simplify that: Zack can cartwheel through a minefield. Zack can meet his most stable fans. Zack can write war reports in an allied country. Zack can enter viking retirement. Zack can watch his own flick sober. Zack can run a subway surfing workshop. Zack can suck my stereotypical dick. Zack can apologize the samurai way.

The mind bleeds.

Is that really it? Am I free? Of Zack? Eigong? Weekly mental breakdowns?

Well, definitely Zack and Eigong.

Now, per our pattern: a better film. I’d pull out a Birdemic, but our set theme’s ninja waif films. And after half a year to think, I have an imperfect suggestion.

The Villainess mostly sucks. It has one perfect scene and two hours afterwards. Making it infinitely better than Sucker Punch.

Two good scenes, perhaps, if you don’t achieve emptiness by the end. I do. Every time. The closing rampage is largely theoretical, and I likely imagined it. Still, the opening spree remains provably real. And rocks hard enough to keep me from ramming my head against Rebel Moon.

The Villainess opens with a fresh idea: Hardcore Henry, plus Hardcore Henry. And I’m already in. I can’t overstate how much rope I give action films. If Zack hadn’t let the Night Stalker write and direct his empowerment tract, I’d call it a “mixed bag.”

In case you prefer films with emotions and ideas: Hardcore Henry was a cheesy set of thinly-linked first-person murders. The Villainness jacks that, and then stops for reasons beyond me. Until then, we’re in this crack mansion.

A dimly lit, glorified coffin. Floors that haven’t been washed since steam power. A couch that’s never touched a sober ass.

Valhalla.

After a certain number of karate operas, you gain hallway radar. You can read wall stains like the rings on a tree. It sounds insane, unlike my advice to Zack. But Babydoll-free brains can do wonderful things. My point: this is a classy hallway. Cramped, stuffed with breakable trash, otherwise symmetrical. Richly lived, and poorly maintained. Definitely a first date hallway. Maybe you can even settle down there, and train your kids to kill.

Then we get a look at the lead. Our nameless, vengeful killer (a full character arc in martial dramaturgy) has reached the end of the hallway, and begun a one-woman war on a mafia Blink Fitness. Or Triad PureGym, or Illuminati GloboGym, or whatever they’re called this month. She’s taking on a steroid factory for bangers, and struggling along each inch. Which is great! No one’s won a fight against two people since cavemen invented teamwork, so fuckups add texture.

Earth’s goons line up to die by one knife. We don’t know why yet. Great, since all the answers suck and take forever. But for now, if you like kicking on screens, there’s plenty of interest. Now, monitor that interest as I add words from my notes.

Hallway. Hope. What? Yes. Khorne. Poetry. Stuntwomen. Hinge. Henry? Henry. Flashback. Assassin school. Exposition. Orientation. Bullies. Flash-forward. Flashback. More school. Fuck. Why? Flash-forward. Child. Love interest. Pillow. Stay awake. Stay awa

To be absolutely clear: the middle everything of The Villainess isn’t a charming mess. It’s a confused void, flitting between three or so CW series about assassins. Still worlds ahead of Sucker Punch, but so’s a pinched nerve.

Then the last ten minutes hit. The Villainess, like your worst/best partners, sprints to make up for time. They love you. This time it’ll be different. Rapid, close-quarter murder, just like the old days. Give them a chance.

For Letterbox scores? Too little, too late. I need a nice purge in the middle too. But enjoy the closer for what it is: turning a moving bus into a giant hearse. Without preaching that forgets the text, subtext, and spirit of the film before it.

In short, I love all films, directors, botnets, and fandoms equally. I hope Zack Snyder prospers professionally and personally. Now fight.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Neku104, who wants the madness to stop, but knows it can't. None of us are strong enough to stop this, and only Dennard is brave enough to face it.

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