The more time I spend around movie critics the more I doubt the benefit of the profession. The irony of that confession is not lost to me. Here I am pretending to be a critic at the same time bitching about critics.

“Get a clue, jackass!” Gotcha. Loud and clear.

My problem isn’t really with the art of critique, it’s the propensity of people in the field of criticism, regardless of genre, to be completely up their own asses. I mean, yeah, I like my personal bouquet, but occasionally I pull my head out of my ass.

My exasperation recently came to a head while waiting to watch an early screening of Snitch. I happened to sit in front of a couple local critics. They had not seen one another for several months and were catching up. The conversation consisted of at least 20 minutes of lamenting their lot in life (read with a long nasally sigh at the end of each statement):

Ooooooooh, how horrible it was to sit through this movie.

If you haven’t seen that movie, don’t bother. I only JUST survived the screening.

There hasn’t been anything worth watching so far this year. They are well on their way to having the top ten worst films for 2013.

On and fucking on…

I don’t expect everyone to like everything, that’s fucking stupid. But at the same time, if you are really that put out by films do something else. If, as I suspect, being a critic isn’t completely terrible, why not skip attending those horrendous films? It’s a no brainer, really.

What does any of this have to do with A Good Day to Die Hard? Well, A Good Day to Die Hard was one of the movies these pricks were in full blown vapors over. I hadn’t seen the movie at the time, but still, I thought, “Really?”

After about the third film in a series even a water head Paris Hiltoloid knows exactly what they are in for. Movies become franchises because the creators find some formula that makes money. And despite the high-minded intentions that art—however narrowly defined—implies, movies are a business. Successful businesses make money. The rest fade into obscurity. Being an indignant starving artist might be cool when you start your career, but as soon as you can get out you do just that—you get the fuck out. Call it “selling out” or whatever. I’m not arguing that one should be a greedy bastard, but one does need to eat. Besides, I suspect most people want to support the artists they like.

And if I wasn’t full of shit enough, let me quote Maynard James Keenan, who said it best with: “All you read and wear or see and hear [in movies] is a product begging for your fat ass dirty dollar… Send more money.”

So, A Good Day to Die Hard is number 5 in the series. Bruce Willis is still John McClane, tough guy extraordinaire. He still has so much testosterone that the women in the audience leave with Janet Reno hair and testicles. Punches still connect with many faces. Bullets still fire like Fourth of July fireworks. Shit still blows up in excessively brilliant plumes of fire. Blood still flows like that time of the month at the convent.

A Good Day to Die Hard is another Die Hard movie. Period.

For shits and giggles, let’s assume you’ve never seen any of the previous Die Hard films. The marketing should give you a clue. All the posters and trailers have guns, explosions, intense facial expressions, blood and a twist on McClane’s catch phrase: Yippe Ki-yay Mother Russia. So…

What. The. FUCK. Do. You. Expect?

A Good Day to Die Hard delivers exactly what it set out to deliver. It is a gung-ho, America is great, action movie. John McClane brings his take-no-shit way of doing things to Russia; he proceeds to kick so much ass the leather wears out on his boots and he gets shit all under his toenails. He’s so fucking bad that the cops never even make an appearance. They figure if McClane’s on the job they’ll take the day off, get a head start on the toilet paper line.

There is some touching father/son stuff in there, but not NEARLY as much as the marketing would lead you to believe. Oh, wait, there isn’t any marketing on the touching father/son stuff. Again: what the fuck do you expect, people? It’s not rocket surgery.

If you find all this machismo to be a bunch of immature bullshit, and I readily admit that it is, skip this movie. It’s not for you. If you enjoy action movies, or at least can appreciate them, this movie is worth your while. Base where you see it on your particular taste for the genre. Check it out in the theaters, full price, if you’re a fan. Check it out in the theaters, matinee, if you like these films. If you can appreciate the genre, check it out when it comes out on DVD/Netflix.

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