Musings on Signs

  A conversation with my sister prompted me to write this. She told me about a conversation she had with a friend. She told him that I would be posting some blogs in the near future that she hoped would be amusing to some while pissing others off. He expressed fear that he would, perhaps, be one of the pissed off number. Fear that he might even be the object of one or more of these little blog thingies. How silly. Still, this relating of conversation did inspire me to write this. So, yeah, what I'm saying here is, "You're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you."

  Flash back several years. I was far too broke to go see movies at the theatre. Mainly, I would watch what was on TV, if we had TV at the time. Sometimes, though, I would borrow whatever new movie my dad would buy. It happened that a little movie called The Sixth Sense came out. I knew it had a twist of some sort, but I managed not to learn what it was. This took some doing. When my dad bought it, Amanda and I purloined it and watched it. And it was good. Very good. I joined the type who do such things in proclaiming M. Night Shyamalan a genius. I somehow missed learning about Unbreakable, but I didn't miss the next one. It was with great anticipation that I waited for Signs.

I'm going to digress a bit here. It is often wise to go into things with low expectations. It's easier to be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed. But how could this not be great? It was directed by a great director! It starred a great actor! It even had Mel Gibson!

  So it came out on video, and my dad bought it soon thereafter. We borrowed it right away. Amanda popped some popcorn and we settled down to watch what was sure to be a great film.

  It started. For the first ten minutes or so, all was good. Suspense was building slowly. This was, without a doubt, a finely-crafted move. Then, my brain engaged. The aliens show up, but the governments of the world don't open fire. Sure. Alright, alright. Disbelief is a bit stretched, but that's fine. Some crap happens. I don't remember.

  Then a friend has an alien trapped. In his pantry. I'm sure there is a logical explanation as to why the poor sucker is unable to get out. Sure. So good old Mel cuts it's friggin' fingers off. What the hell? This is how he makes first contact? Cutting it's fingers off? So then what do we do? Board the doors and windows. Well, if the damn aliens can't open the pantry door, a boarded window should be impregnable. Of course, we only heavily board the doors that open in. The ones that open out, we just slap a couple of boards on. On the inside, no less. Okay, sure. That makes sense.

  It is at this time that I start giving suggestions to Mel and crew. It starts with "Get a gun, dumbass!" I realize these folks have no firearms. So I start telling them, "Get a Big Stick--!" They fail to listen. They seem to be deaf as well as stupid. Finally, they go to the basement. Someone grabs a grubbing hoe and I think "They finally listened!" Then they use it to prop the door shut. Genius.

  Some stuff happens. I've blocked it out I think. Then the big finale. Swing away or whatever, and we discover that our aliens are, in fact, freeze-dried aliens that melt in water. What a world, what a world.

  The epiphany hit then. Obviously, these aliens had flown across the universe to bring us the cure for cancer! In some freak miscalculation, they failed to realize that Earth has lots of water. Upon hitting our atmosphere, their skin began to burn, making them lose their ability to think rationally. One comes in a house for help and Mel cuts his damn fingers off. Finally, one comes in the family's house for succor, with the cure for cancer to trade, only to be bludgeoned and melted. There went the cure. Thanks a hell of a lot, Mr. Gibson.

  There are those who say the movie has great meaning. It's about faith and coincidence. A study of what happens to individuals in a time of great crisis. Bullocks. The movie is crap.

  In closing, I'll say that this long-winded diatribe isn't targeted at anyone. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is strictly coincidental and all that. Oh, and that Destro/Baroness thing was utter crap. The chick is hot though.