It's midnight, or four in the morning. It really does not matter because time is irrelevant now. Maybe time itself doesn't exist anymore and I'm circling the globe naked as my frostbitten fingers dance across the sky filled with stars. Am I sane? Was there ever anything called "sanity"? Should I relax the beat or flip it and reverse it? These questions sparkle though my mind like a thousand points of light as I sit in my own bodily waste, comatose from the vision in front of me. The movie is Tango & Cash. Alternatively, as Dante would call it, the first layer of Hell.
Tango was a good cop. Cash was a good cop. Unfortunately, the cartel hates good cops, which means a little bit of framing is in the works. Sylvester Stallone plays Ray Tango, a metrosexual cop that borders genders and probably sleeps with his sister, crying himself to sleep every night as he rocks back and forth on a wooden horse. Kurt Russell, who plays Gabriel Cash, is a down and dirty cop who plays by his own set of rules. Unfortunately, those rules involve mullets and tight jeans. Together, they make little sense and thus the movie descends into a pattern of ugly bad guys and maddening plot twists. After a crime cartel manages to send Tango and Cash to the slammer, the two cops find themselves working together in order to clear their respective names. Once they break out of prison, the guys hunt down the witnesses that put them away in the first place. One by one, they clear their names and turn their attention towards the mastermind behind the whole operation, Jack Palance. After a gunfight where bullets don't run out, the good guys clear their name but only after actually murdering dozens of people. Movies about cops are always fun.
This movie looks good. The explosions are bright and the action is unrelenting. Unfortunately, they forgot to write an actual script and the ensuing banter is enough to drive most people to turn the volume down and insert their own collection of French lines. The idea to bring together the two most beloved cops in LA is a good plan. Unfortunately, this plan is executed poorly and the result is that the original idea is left crying, huddled alone on the street. Furthermore, Kurt Russell and Sylvester Stallone should never appear in the same movie or even the same state. Fortunately, thanks to this blockbuster of a film, we will never have to wait for a sequel. Alas, some desires are better left to dreams dreamed in the dirty sheets of sin.
Wow, could it really be that bad? Well, yes. Although somewhere out there, somebody likes this film. This person is probably in their room, crying with their free hand outstretched towards a torn poster of Tango & Cash.
Your Moment of Insanity:
Mr. Tango has spoken very eloquently and I wish I could be as forgiving. But I can't because this whole thing fucking sucks. (This sums the film up nicely.)
Things You Should Look Out For:
Movies About Cops Who ROCK or whatever:
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