On the way to the theater, Josh, Q and I said nothing. No words. It was a general understanding of what we were going to see. We've been to many movies before, good and bad. We know the drill. We're going to war, there's nothing to say.
So we meet Seffinga and take our seats. I'm lucky enough to sit next to two gentlemen who smelled like the ass that ass smells like when ass smells like ass. They also commented on my DS, wondering why I didn't get a PSP instead. These are humans who think that "gaming" consists of Halo 2 and... well that's it. I had to change seats. Bad start.
Previews begin. I was hoping there'd be a trailer for Snakes on a Plane. ATTENTION HOLLYWOOD: I'M CALLING YOUR BLUFF! I'm convinced Snakes on a Plane is an elaborate Hollywood April Fools gag. When they come out and shout "SURPRISE! We were fuckin' with you. There's no REAL movie called Snakes on a Plane. Sam Jackson was in on it. Shit, it was his idea! And you all totally bought it!" I will be on record as of now that I did NOT, in-fact, buy it. It's a prank and you can't convince me otherwise. There was no trailer for Snakes on a Plane, but there was a trailer for Ultraviolet. The sad part is, I actually believe that is a movie. I think it was inspired by "Catwoman," which explains the CG effects that were proudly rendered with the PS1 engine. Audible sigh.
The movie itself wasn't... that bad. This pretty much describes how I felt about most movies these days. Doom, Fantastic 4, Aeon Flux, all not THAT bad. Underworld 2 was one of those movies. The effects were kind of jittery. The artist in me was thinking "you know, I could kind of believe that the werewolves are kinda not really in reality yet, so the jumpy CG is a metaphor for how they shouldn't exist among men." Fortunately, the craftsman in me slapped the artist in me and pointed out "No... that's just some shitty-ass CG."
Let's sploil shit by telling you what you want to here: There were boobies. Mr. Seffinga theorized the corporate meeting that decided the plot to this movie: "You remember that movie Underworld that made us huge sacks of money? How can we make more money off of a sequel? I know! We'll add lots of boobies!" The end result was a sex scene that involved the couple's hips being so far from each other that the only way they could actually be copulating was if the combined werewolf and vampire DNA had given the dude a 6 foot penis. Good luck there, guy. Just to keep all the spoilers in one paragraph, my irk list also included the automatic pistols that never ran out of bullets, the helicopter that never ran out of fuel, the set of Crayolas that somehow existed 900 years ago and the obligatory sequel-friendly ending. OKAY, END SPOILER.
So, bitch-list aside, it was just the latest turd to be churned out of Hollywood's rectum to feed the media-starved insects that are the American people. It does what it was intended to do: make money. Underworld Evolutions gets three glasses of whiskey.