Mae and I saw Superman Returns on Tuesday. When that familiar John Williams theme played, I felt the same rush as I did so many years ago when I saw the first Superman as a 7-year-old. And just like those many years ago, I was awestruck.
This young guy in the row before us was completely unaffected. "This bugger was still swimming about in his father's loins when the first movie came out," I pointed out the disrecpectful young sprat and his father to Mae. Expectedly, Loinboy wasn't terribly moved by the whole John Williams thing.
Superman Returns is a love story disguised as a superhero movie. But, damn, it was good - beautifully shot and all. At times, it looked like it came right out of a comic. Even the poster you see up here - that must have been inspired by Alex Ross' Kingdom Come (Which is one helluva graphic novel that would surely have you... erm.. coming all over your... erm... kingdom. Hehheh!!!).
The hopeless romantic in me loved it to pieces - the lonely tortured guy thing, that bit about forbidden love, the heartbroken lovers angle, the tormented fathers and sons, and all of that crybaby shit! Watching it made me feel like Superman. Minus the good looks, 6-pack, and underwear outside, of course. Heh! So yeah, it was that good.
On the way out of the auditorium, Loinboy started looking at me funny. Faster than a speeding bullet, I grabbed him by the neck before he could react. Stronger than a locomotive, I hurled Loinboy out into the stratosphere where he shall orbit the earth for his remaining days. Then, I turned my heat vision upon Loinboy's daddy's crotch. Phhsshaawrkkksshh!!!!" And all at once, there was peace throughout the land.
No more shall the world be terrorised by the likes of Loinboy.