In 1982, First Blood made its debut, the first of a parade of Rambo films that have become synonymous with gratuitous violence in our pop-culture lexicon. But do you know how many people were killed in First Blood? Just one. Do you know how many people are killed in the newest hyper-violent outing by Robert Rodriguez, Machete? Thirteen people are killed—before the opening credits rolled.
Now, to be fair, there are some assumptions at work here. The low body count in First Blood accepts that all the cops who Rambo beats and maims during the course of the film survive. The baker’s dozen of bodies dropped in the opening sequence of Machete comes from my own unscientific tally, and assumes that everybody that falls down stays down. Maybe that’s an unfair assumption. Maybe in Machete’s universe, triage throat replacements and recapitations are standard operating procedure. Who knows?
I bring this up to illustrate a problem with these big budget exploitation films that have been so popular this summer. The ‘70’s exploitation films and ‘80’s action flicks they pay tribute to were enjoyable for their earnestness. They took their ridiculous action sequences seriously. Movies like Machete, Piranha 3D, and The Expendables, on the other hand, are all either tongue-in-cheek or hyper-aware of the genre they are playing to. It’s like the kid who tries way to hard to be cool to the point where it’s repulsive. They’re cinema hipsters.
Machete falls into this too-cool-for-school camp. It tries to be the blood and guts gorefest and the legitimate action film and the social commentary, but never devotes enough time to any aspect to make it worthwhile. And with all this baggage, Machete lags. Piranha 3D was a more successful flick because it eschewed all the nonessentials, like plot and characterization, and instead focused on making a bloody screwball comedy. It’s sad to say, but where Machete tried and failed, Piranha 3D succeeded because it didn’t even try.
That’s not to say there weren’t moments of mindless bliss. There’s something so right in seeing Danny Trejo gripping a knife, and hearing Robert De Niro dust off his good-ol’-boy Cape Fear accent is a treat. Still, I hope that after this summer ends, Hollywood will get over its current infatuation with bloodshed. Even at their best, these flicks are nothing more than a flashes in the pan.
