Film Review: Blind Fury (dir. by Phillip Noyce)

Posted on November 2, 2026 by Arleigh

“Oh, nice guy, I hope. Everybody’s trying to kill me lately.” — Nick Parker

Rutger Hauer’s smile does almost as much work as his sword in Blind Fury (1989). It gives this cheerfully far-fetched action movie something that an elaborate fight sequence cannot supply on its own: a reason to enjoy hanging around its hero. Directed by Phillip Noyce, the film mixes bloody confrontations, broad comedy, and an unlikely friendship without always finding a comfortable balance. Yet Hauer moves through it with such relaxed charisma that the rough patches rarely become deal breakers. The story may be about getting a child out of danger, but the movie’s real attraction is watching an unconventional action star make an outrageous character feel strangely approachable.

Hauer plays Nick Parker, a Vietnam veteran blinded during the war and rescued by villagers who teach him to fight using his remaining senses. Years later, he sets out to find his old army buddy Frank Deveraux, played by Terry O’Quinn. Instead of a happy reunion, Nick discovers that Frank is mixed up with criminals and that his son Billy, played by Brandon Call, is in danger. After Billy’s mother is killed, Nick takes the boy under his protection. Their journey supplies the film with its basic rhythm: uneasy bonding, trouble, swordplay, and another stretch of uneasy bonding.

The film is an English-language remake of Zatoichi Challenged, the 17th entry in the long-running Japanese film series about the blind swordsman. Rather than simply borrowing a distinctive fighting gimmick, Blind Fury carries over the appeal of a capable outsider whom people consistently misjudge. Nick’s walking stick conceals a sword, but his friendly manner disguises his abilities just as effectively. Putting that figure into an American crime adventure creates an entertaining clash of styles. The gangsters belong to a familiar world of threats and brute force; Nick seems to have wandered in from a different kind of movie altogether.

Hauer makes that difference work by resisting the obvious tough-guy approach. Nick does not spend every quiet moment looking tortured or every confrontation trying to sound intimidating. He jokes, listens, and occasionally seems genuinely amused by the people around him. There is sadness beneath that warmth, but Hauer lets it register without demanding that the whole film stop and acknowledge it. His performance gives Nick a life beyond his usefulness in a fight. That matters because a character built entirely around extraordinary abilities can become dull surprisingly quickly. Here, the abilities are entertaining, but the person using them is usually more interesting.

The action follows the same principle: personality matters more than plausibility. Nick’s awareness of his surroundings is precise enough to make the premise work, and the film does not invite much scrutiny of the mechanics. Instead, Noyce builds sequences around timing, misplaced confidence, and sudden reversals. Someone decides Nick is helpless, moves in too close, and receives an unpleasant correction. The fights are often structured like physical punch lines, with a brief pause before the payoff. That playful quality keeps the swordplay from becoming monotonous, even when the outcome is obvious. We know Nick will handle the situation; the fun lies in how.

The villains give him plenty to handle, although they are more colorful obstacles than fully developed characters. Noble Willingham brings blustering nastiness to crime boss MacCready, while Randall “Tex” Cobb gives Slag an imposing presence. Their broadness suits a film that has little interest in subtle criminal psychology. They threaten, scheme, and underestimate their opponent, giving Hauer room to remain comparatively understated. The contrast is useful: Nick does not need to compete with their volume to control a scene. Still, the criminal plot itself is not especially compelling, and whenever the film spends too long explaining its machinery, the energy starts to sag.

The relationship with Billy is more important and more uneven. Their partnership brings out Nick’s patience and gives the journey something warmer than a string of violent encounters. But Billy’s resistance can feel like a screenplay requirement rather than a fresh observation about a frightened child. The movie needs them to clash before they connect, and sometimes you can see that calculation too clearly. Its handling of grief is similarly hurried. A devastating event becomes the starting point for an adventure that frequently wants to be breezy. Hauer helps bridge those gaps, though he cannot entirely erase the awkwardness.

That uneven tone is the film’s biggest limitation. Blind Fury wants its violence to sting, its jokes to land lightly, and its central relationship to carry genuine feeling, sometimes within the same scene. Not every transition works. Its fantasy of blindness also belongs firmly to action-movie invention rather than a grounded portrayal of disability. But the film remains enjoyable because it rarely becomes self-important about any of this. Noyce generally keeps the story moving, and Hauer gives its competing moods a common center. Even when the writing shifts gears abruptly, Nick still feels like the same person.

For a movie built around a concealed weapon, Blind Fury is surprisingly dependent on what its leading man leaves out in the open. Hauer’s humor, gentleness, and easy confidence make the familiar plot worth following and the ridiculous action worth accepting. A more generic performance might have left nothing but a novelty premise and a pile of defeated henchmen. Instead, there is a character whose company makes the journey enjoyable. The film is scruffy, sometimes clumsy, and never particularly deep, but it has the good sense to trust its star. Long after the plot details fade, that smile still does the trick.

Anime You Should Be Watching: Spy x Family

Posted on February 1, 2026 by Arleigh

Sometimes, an anime comes along that doesn’t just entertain — it charms, disarms, and quietly becomes everyone’s go-to comfort watch. Spy x Family is that kind of series. On paper, it sounds like something stitched together from wildly different genres — a spy thriller, a rom-com, a slice-of-life comedy, and an action series — yet somehow, across three seasons and a feature-length film, it balances them all perfectly. What starts as an undercover mission turns into a story about love, belonging, and the odd little family that holds it all together. Whether you’re new to anime or already knee-deep in your watchlist, Spy x Family is absolutely worth your time.

The setup is simple but brilliant. In an uneasy Cold-War-style world, Westalis’s top agent, codenamed Twilight, must go undercover to prevent the outbreak of war. His mission requires him to get close to an influential political figure, but the only way to do that is by enrolling a “child” into the exclusive Eden Academy — which only accepts the offspring of established, respectable families. And so, Twilight builds one from scratch. Under the alias “Loid Forger,” he adopts a six-year-old orphan named Anya and enters into a marriage of convenience with Yor Briar, a sweet but mysterious city hall worker. What Loid doesn’t know is that Yor moonlights as a deadly assassin, and his quiet new daughter happens to be a telepath who can read everyone’s minds.

That’s the hook, and it’s beautifully absurd. But what makes Spy x Family (based on Tatsuya Endo’s manga and its accompanying light novel adaptations) so appealing is how effortlessly the absurd premise gives way to genuine heart. The anime adaptation — skillfully brought to life through a joint production by Wit Studio (Attack on Titan, Vinland Saga) and CloverWorks (The Promised Neverland, Horimiya) — masterfully captures the manga’s mix of elegant spy-world detail and exaggerated comedic charm. From the first season’s pilot to the explosive third season finale, the animation maintains a crisp polish that perfectly walks the line between cinematic and cartoonish fun.

Season one laid the foundation. It showed us the logistical nightmare of Loid trying to maintain his cover while juggling his secret missions, parenting duties, and the increasing chaos that Anya brings into his life. The tone lands somewhere between Mission: Impossible and My Neighbor Totoro — fast-paced but softhearted. Every episode delivered something different: stealth missions, emotional bonding, laugh-out-loud domestic failures. Yor’s awkward attempts at cooking, Anya’s disastrous adventures at school, and Loid’s obliviously perfectionist approach to “family life” all came together to prove that the show’s greatest strength wasn’t just its clever story — it was its heart.

By season two, the world of Spy x Family expanded, and so did its drama. The writing matured without ever turning grim, deepening both the espionage angle and the emotional relationships at home. Anya’s telepathic insights became more than comic relief; they offered a perspective that grounded the story in empathy. Loid was forced to confront the emotional toll of a double life, and Yor’s violent profession clashed hilariously (and sometimes poignantly) with her desire to protect and nurture her newfound family. The season’s standout arc — the Cruise Adventure — gave Yor her most intense focus yet, crafting an action sequence that justified every bit of Wit and CloverWorks’ collaboration. The fight choreography, the lighting, the flow of Yor’s combat scenes — every frame had purpose and weight, showing how seriously the anime treats even its most outlandish story beats.

And then came season three, the capstone of what’s been an almost-uninterrupted high run for the series. With the family now firmly established, the emphasis shifted from introductions to evolution. The show explored Loid’s moral conflict with unusual tenderness: can a man who’s built a life on lies still find real happiness? Yor’s arc moved beyond secrecy into subtle self-awareness — she’s no longer just pretending to be a wife and mother; she’s realizing that’s what she truly wants to be. Meanwhile, Anya, still the chaotic heart of the Forger family, grew more self-assured while remaining the series’ comedic backbone. Her misadventures at Eden Academy became a microcosm of the show’s central theme: that no one truly fits the mold of “normal,” and that being imperfect doesn’t make you any less worthy of love.

What’s remarkable about Spy x Family is its ability to keep that emotional balance intact while evolving tonally. By the third season, it has developed a comfortable rhythm — equal parts spy intrigue, domestic mishaps, and heartwarming chaos. The humor never feels stale, largely because the writing never forgets that humor comes from truth. Loid’s mission, for instance, may start as professional necessity, but his determination to remain the “perfect father” — even if it means memorizing bedtime stories like they’re classified intel — feels both ridiculous and deeply relatable. Yor’s mix of lethal grace and anxious vulnerability gives her layers rarely afforded to “action mom” archetypes. And Anya — let’s face it — remains one of the most perfectly written kids in anime, her expressive face practically carrying half the show’s comedy on its own.

Then there’s the movie, Spy x Family Code: White, which acts as an extended, film-length episode with blockbuster scale. Set between the second and third seasons, it takes the Forger family on what’s supposed to be a peaceful winter vacation — until international conspiracies, toxic desserts, and a handful of assassins upend their plans. The film doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it doesn’t need to; it’s a self-contained joyride that amplifies everything people love about the series. The animation quality gets a cinematic upgrade — lush lighting, more fluid action, and stunning color work that gives the film its own visual identity. Both Wit Studio and CloverWorks pushed their production quality to a new peak here, making Code: White not just a companion piece but a genuine event film that delivers a big-screen version of the show’s charm. Fans got the edge-of-your-seat spy action and tear-worthy family moments they love — plus even more Anya faces to meme forever.

Animation aside, the sound design and music remain just as crucial to Spy x Family’s atmosphere. The jazzy, upbeat openings and lush, emotional ending themes reflect the dual nature of the world — equal parts espionage and emotion. The soundtrack carries subtle motifs for each character: Loid’s themes balance tension and meticulous order; Yor’s melodies pair elegance with hidden volatility; and Anya’s cues swing between whimsy and mischief. It’s yet another element that shows how much care has gone into aligning every layer of the production with the story’s emotional rhythms.

But all the polish in the world wouldn’t matter without the show’s soul. Beneath the disguises and absurd premises, Spy x Family is a show about honesty in unlikely places. It’s about people pretending to be something they’re not, only to realize that, through those roles, they’ve stumbled into genuine connection. It’s about an assassin learning gentleness, a spy learning love, and a child who already knows far too much learning that her broken family is still something worth protecting. That sincerity gives the comedy weight. Each laugh — Yor’s overreactions, Loid’s calculated stress, Anya’s mangled “Waku Waku!” enthusiasm — lands because we care about these people. Underneath the disguises and double-crosses, they’re just a family trying their best.

The beauty of Spy x Family is that it rarely rushes to make big statements. Its storytelling prefers warmth over melodrama, pacing itself with the easy confidence of a show that knows its characters can carry anything. Even when new spies, assassins, or political threads appear, the focus always slides back to the Forgers’ living room — dinner conversations, laughter, awkward silences. It’s there, in the small moments, that Spy x Family becomes more than entertainment. It becomes a reflection of what it means to connect, to care, and to find pieces of yourself in others, even when everything begins as a lie.

Three seasons and a movie later, it’s clear why Spy x Family stands out in modern anime. It doesn’t rely on shock twists or brute spectacle to hold attention — it wins you over with its heart. The collaboration between Wit Studio and CloverWorks has resulted in a show that feels both cinematic and cozy, polished yet endlessly rewatchable. Tatsuya Endo’s world is captured with fidelity and personality: richly detailed, emotionally grounded, and irresistibly funny.

If you’re on the fence about starting it, here’s the honest truth: you’ll go in expecting a clever spy comedy, but you’ll stay because it becomes something warmer, deeper, and unforgettable. Spy x Family might be about secret lives and pretend relationships, but the feelings it evokes are absolutely real. At a time when so many shows chase intensity, this one wins through sincerity. And that alone makes it one mission you don’t want to miss.

Anime You Should Be Watching

Review: Lethal Weapon 2 (dir. by Richard Donner)

Posted on December 16, 2025 by Arleigh

“We’re back, we’re bad. You’re black, I’m mad. Let’s go!” — Martin Riggs

Lethal Weapon 2 is the kind of sequel that doesn’t really try to reinvent what worked the first time so much as crank the volume on everything: the action is bigger, the jokes come faster, and the chaos feels almost constant. Depending on what you loved about Lethal Weapon, that approach delivers more of the high-energy partnership in a flashier package. It’s a confident, very entertaining 80s action movie that knows it’s a sequel and leans into the spectacle that status allows.

Plot-wise, Lethal Weapon 2 wastes no time reminding you what this world feels like. It drops Riggs and Murtaugh into a wild car chase almost immediately, and from there the story locks onto a case involving South African diplomats hiding behind apartheid-era “diplomatic immunity” while running a massive drug and money-laundering operation. It’s a cleaner, more high-concept hook than the original’s murkier web of Vietnam vets and heroin smuggling, and the script makes the villains broad on purpose, almost cartoonishly arrogant, to give the audience someone very easy to hate. The trade-off is that the plot feels a bit more mechanical this time; you always know who the bad guys are and what the destination is, so the film’s real energy comes from the detours, jokes, and set-pieces rather than any mystery.

One of the big shifts from Lethal Weapon to Lethal Weapon 2 is tone. The first film balanced brutal violence and dark humor with a surprisingly heavy focus on Riggs’ suicidal grief and Murtaugh’s fear of getting too old for the job. The sequel keeps those elements in the background but leans harder into banter, slapstick timing, and outrageous gags like the now-famous exploding toilet sequence, with Richard Donner’s direction pushing the script toward action comedy. It’s still R-rated and not shy about blood or cruelty, but the emotional intensity is dialed down compared to the original’s raw edges.

Mel Gibson and Danny Glover remain the anchor, and their chemistry is as sharp as ever. Gibson’s Riggs is still reckless and unhinged, but there’s a looser, more playful side to him this time; he’s less haunted and more of a live-wire prankster until the story gives him something personal to latch onto. Glover’s Murtaugh continues to be the grounded center, constantly exasperated and always half a step away from just walking off the job, and the film has a lot of fun putting his straight-man persona through increasingly humiliating situations while still letting him be competent when it counts. Compared to the first film, where their partnership slowly thawed from suspicion to genuine trust, Lethal Weapon 2 starts from “these guys are already a team” and builds its best moments from how comfortably they now bounce off each other.

The biggest new ingredient is Joe Pesci as Leo Getz, a federal witness turned tagalong who basically functions as the franchise’s third stooge. Pesci leans into the motor-mouthed, paranoid, endlessly complaining energy that would become his signature, and his presence tips some scenes from gritty cop story into broad comedy. He undercuts tension at times, but he also gives the movie a different rhythm, especially in the quieter in-between beats where the first film might have lingered more on Riggs’ inner damage.

In terms of action, Donner clearly has more money and confidence to play with, and it shows. The chases are bigger, the shootouts are staged with a slicker sense of geography, and there’s a steady escalation in scale that makes the film feel like a genuine summer sequel rather than just another mid-budget cop movie. The original had a grimy, street-level intensity, with brutal fistfights and sudden bursts of violence; Lethal Weapon 2 is more interested in creative set-pieces, crowd-pleasing payoffs, and moments designed to make an audience cheer. It’s less intimate, but it is rarely dull.

Where the film lands in a more complicated space is its attempt to keep some emotional stakes alive while also going bigger and funnier. Riggs’ grief over the loss of his wife is still part of his character, and the story finds ways to poke at that wound again, including a new relationship that lets him imagine some kind of future beyond the constant death wish. Those beats are there to echo what worked so well in the first movie, but they have less room to breathe, often getting squeezed between an action scene and a joke instead of shaping the entire film’s tone. You can feel the push and pull between wanting to keep the darker emotional spine and delivering the kind of lighter, more easily marketable sequel a studio would understandably chase.

The villains themselves are effective in that pulpy 80s way: not nuanced, but very punchable. Arjen Rudd, with his smug talk of “diplomatic immunity,” is a villain designed to make audiences grind their teeth, and his main henchman adds a physically intimidating, quietly sadistic presence to the mix. Compared to the original’s more grounded ex-military antagonists, these guys feel one step closer to Bond territory, and that shift mirrors the film’s overall move toward heightened, almost comic-book stakes. What the sequel loses in plausibility, it gains in revenge-fantasy satisfaction.

When stacked directly against Lethal Weapon, the second film feels like a classic case of “if you liked hanging out with these characters once, here’s more time with them.” The original is tighter, more emotionally focused, and arguably more distinctive, with a stronger sense of danger and genuine unpredictability around Riggs’ mental state. Lethal Weapon 2 smooths some of those jagged edges and replaces them with quips, bigger set-pieces, and a more overtly crowd-pleasing structure, which makes it an easier, more consistently fun watch but also a slightly less resonant one. It is still a good film, but in many ways it is also the moment where the franchise shifts from a character-driven cop thriller with action to a full-on action-comedy machine.

As a fair, middle-of-the-road assessment, Lethal Weapon 2 works very well on its own terms and delivers exactly what most people want out of a late-80s buddy-cop sequel. The chemistry is intact, the action is energetic, and the film moves with the kind of confident pace that never really lets you get bored. At the same time, the tonal tilt toward broader humor and more cartoonish villains means it doesn’t quite have the same staying power or emotional punch as Lethal Weapon, especially if what hooked you the first time was how wounded and volatile it all felt. For fans of the original, it’s an enjoyable continuation—a louder, flashier second round that may not hit as hard, but still knows how to entertain.

Review: 48 Hrs. (dir. by Walter Hill)

Posted on December 10, 2025 by Arleigh

“This ain’t no god damn way to start a partnership.” – Reggie Hammond

48 Hrs. bursts onto the screen with a gritty prison breakout that sets the stage for chaos in the foggy streets of San Francisco, where a pair of ruthless killers slip away after gunning down a cop’s partner in cold blood. Jack Cates, the surviving detective, is left battered and furious, piecing together a case that points to a slick convict named Reggie Hammond holding the key to the crooks’ whereabouts—and a stash of stolen cash. With time ticking down, Jack pulls strings to get Reggie out on a 48-hour pass, thrusting these two polar opposites into a reluctant alliance that turns the city into their personal battlefield of bullets, banter, and bad blood.

From the jump, Jack comes across as the ultimate rough-around-the-edges cop, nursing a flask under his trench coat, snapping at colleagues, and charging headfirst into danger like a man who’s got nothing left to lose. His apartment is a mess of empty bottles and regret, and his rocky relationship with his girlfriend underscores how the job has chewed him up and spit him out, leaving him more beast than man. Reggie, by contrast, rolls in with street-honed swagger, his prison jumpsuit barely containing the energy of a guy who’s survived by being quicker on his feet and sharper with his mouth than anyone around him. He’s got a girlfriend waiting with that hidden money, and no intention of playing nice with a cop who’s eyeing him like fresh meat.

The beauty of their pairing lies in how the film lets their friction spark from the very first shared car ride, where Jack’s growled commands clash against Reggie’s nonstop ribbing, turning a simple stakeout into a verbal demolition derby. Picture them peeling out after a lead goes south, tires screeching through narrow alleys while Reggie gripes about the beat-up car and Jack slams the dash in frustration—it’s these raw, unscripted-feeling moments that make the movie breathe. As they hit up seedy bars, chase informants through strip joints, and dodge ambushes, the script peels back layers: Jack’s not just a bully, he’s haunted by close calls; Reggie’s bravado masks real fear of ending up dead or broke.

One standout sequence drops them into a hillbilly roadhouse packed with hostile locals, where Reggie grabs the mic for an impromptu takedown that flips the room from menace to mayhem, buying them time while Jack backs him up with sheer firepower. It’s tense, hilarious, and perfectly timed, showing how their skills complement each other—Jack’s brute force meeting Reggie’s silver tongue—in ways neither saw coming. The villains, led by a stone-cold Luther and his trigger-happy sidekick, keep the heat cranked high, popping up for savage hits that leave bodies in the gutter and force the duo to improvise on the fly, like hot-wiring rides or shaking down lowlifes for scraps of intel.

Walter Hill’s direction keeps it all taut and visceral, with handheld cameras capturing the sweat and grime of every punch thrown or shot fired, no glossy filters to soften the blows. The San Francisco backdrop shines through rain-slicked hills, neon-lit dives, and shadowy piers, giving the action a grounded, almost documentary edge that amps up the stakes. Sound design punches too—the roar of engines, the crack of gunfire, the thud of fists—layered over a pulsing ’80s score that shifts from funky grooves during chases to ominous drones in quieter beats, mirroring the push-pull between comedy and threat.

Diving deeper into the characters, Jack’s arc feels earned through small touches: a hesitant phone call to his ex, a flicker of respect when Reggie saves his skin, moments that humanize the hardass without forcing redemption. Reggie evolves too, his initial scam-artist vibe giving way to flashes of loyalty, like when he risks his neck to protect that cash not just for himself, but to build something real outside the walls. Supporting roles flesh out the world—the precinct captain barking orders, the sultry singer tangled with the bad guys, Reggie’s tough-as-nails woman who won’t take guff—but they never overshadow the core duo, serving as sparks for conflict or comic relief.

Pacing-wise, the film rarely pauses for breath, clocking in under two hours yet packing in a full meal of twists, from double-crosses at motels to a frantic foot chase across rooftops that leaves you winded. The 48-hour ticking clock adds urgency without gimmicks, every dead end ramping tension as dawn breaks on their deadline. Humor lands organically too, not from slapstick but from character-driven zingers—Reggie calling out Jack’s outdated tough-guy schtick, Jack grumbling about Reggie’s flashy clothes—keeping the tone light even as blood spills.

Of course, watching through modern eyes, the dialogue packs some era-specific punches, with raw language around race, cops, and crooks that reflects ’80s attitudes head-on, for better or worse. It’s unapologetic, mirroring the film’s macho pulse, but adds texture to the time capsule feel, making replays fascinating for how boldly it leaned into taboos. The women, while fierce in spots, often play second fiddle to the bromance brewing, a hallmark of the genre that 48 Hrs. helped cement before it evolved.

What elevates this beyond standard action fare is how it nails the buddy dynamic’s slow burn: no instant high-fives, just gradual thaw from shared survival, culminating in a dockside finale where alliances solidify amid explosions and last stands. The editing zips between high-octane set pieces and downtime breather scenes, like a roadside diner heart-to-heart that reveals backstories without halting momentum. Cinematography plays with shadows and neon to heighten paranoia, turning everyday spots into pressure cookers.

Influence-wise, you can trace lines straight to later hits—the grizzled vet and smooth-talking newbie formula got refined here, blending Lethal Weapon grit with Beverly Hills Cop wit years ahead of schedule. Performances anchor it all: the leads’ chemistry crackles, carrying weaker beats on sheer charisma, while Hill’s lean style ensures every frame earns its keep. Runtime flies because it’s efficient, no fat, just muscle.

Final stretch ramps to operatic violence on those windswept docks, bullets flying as personal scores settle, leaving our heroes bloodied but bonded in a way that feels hard-won. 48 Hrs. endures as a rowdy blueprint for the genre, blending laughs, thrills, and toughness into a package that’s addictive on first watch and rewarding on revisit. It’s got heart under the bruises, edge in the jokes, and a vibe that’s pure ’80s adrenaline—grab it for a night of no-holds-barred entertainment that still packs a wallop over four decades later.

Trailer: The Interview (Red Band)

Posted on September 22, 2014 by Arleigh

I know this is one film that Lisa Marie is going to see the moment it arrives. Why do I say that?

The answer to that is two words: James and Franco.

This red band trailer pretty much gives a basic layout of how raunchy this comedy will be and continue the bromance that is James Franco and Seth Rogen.

Also, it’s about two celebrity journalists hired by the CIA to assassinate North Korea’s Dear Leader, Kim Jong-un.

The Interview is set for that release date where all wholesome family holiday films get to premiere on, December 25, 2014.

Guilty Pleasure No. 6: The Golden Child

Posted on May 18, 2013 by Arleigh

During the 80’s there were three names who earned the title of megastars. There was Sylvester Stallone with his Rocky and Rambo films. There was also Arnold Schwarzenneger who was pretty much the biggest action star of the decade. Then there’s Eddie Murphy who pretty much redefined the role of comedic action star. Yes, Murphy was an action star in his own right.

Once Murphy made a huge hit with the odd couple action comedy 48 Hours he began making one action comedy after the next. They all made money and to certain degree they were actually pretty good. There was one Murphy action comedy vehicle that was initially well-received by many when it came out in December of 1986, but has since seen a revisionist take from those who originally hyped up the film. I’m talking about The Golden Child.

Many who seem to have enjoyed and loved this film when it first came out has since backtracked to calling it one of the worst films of the 80’s. A film that indulges the ego of it’s star. While I agree with everything people have said about this film with each passing year I still can’t keep myself from enjoying it whenever it comes on cable (been awhile since it has). It was a fun flick when I first saw it as a 13 year-old and it continues to be fun.

Yes, it hasn’t aged well, but I think how it encompasses the kitchy-style of the 80’s not to mention the egocentricity of Murphy at the height of his stardom makes this one of my guilty pleasures. It even has a much y ounger, but still badass, Tywin Lannister playing the role of the main villain Sardo Numpsa aka Brother Numpsy.

Previous Guilty Pleasures:

Trailer: 21 Jump Street (Red Band)

Posted on November 3, 2011 by Arleigh

Ok, I have to admit that I was a huge fan of the Fox Network early 90’s cop show 21 Jump Street. What can I say other than it was a show about cops who looked like teenagers so using TV logic they go undercover in high school as students to catch bad guys. I mean the show gave birth to Depp and Grieco, nuff said.

It’s been twenty years since that show first first premiered and now we have the long-awaited, much-anticipated film adaptation of said show set for spring of 2012. It’s going to be an action-comedy but still using the same premise as the show, but instead of taking the original characters from the show and just having new actors play them the film just returns to the 21 Jump Street program with a new batch of recruits. So, instead of Johnny Depp and Richard Grieco we get Channing Tataum and Jonah Hill instead. I did read that Depp will appear in this film in a major cameo. Now, here’s to hoping they’re keeping Grieco’s appearance as a major secret.

The first trailer has been released and it’s in glorious red band. So, as I look at the trailer I will assume that this film will either be a very hard PG-13 or a soft R rating.

21 Jump Street has a release date of March 16, 2012.