EvilDeb and I went to see “Walking Tall” on Friday. We’d been looking forward to it for a long time, as we are now Big Fans of the Rock. We enjoyed it very much. As naturally we would. Lots of guns, and punching and hitting things with a big stick. Gratuitous Tackle Football- fu. In the opening scenes, The Rock gets off a ferry boat, somewhere that is supposed to be my part of the country. It’s actually Canada. My part of the continent. He’s just walking, almost strutting, through his town, with his duffle bag, to the Allman Band’s “Midnight Rider.” And EvilDeb turns to me and says, “if the film consisted of nothing but this, I’d still love it.” I had to agree. Just walking him walk was almost soft core porn, and he was fully dressed. I am currently experiencing very impure thoughts about the Rock. And we enjoyed it for other reasons. Johnny Knoxville was very funny and scruffy, displayed an evil delight when he got to tear apart a bad guy’s monster truck. And the bad guy was blond, beautiful, and you wanted to punch him the face. At times, we felt it difficult not to yell encouragement to the Rock, during fight scenes. Or to shout “HA!” in triumph, when one of the greasy bad guys found out what the Rock was cooking. The whole thing was set to very satisfying Rock and Roll, baby. YEAH!! It was, we decided, Cathartic Violence, and it felt good. And it’s ok, we don’t have to feel guilty for enjoying it. Because there has to be some issue, emotion, or complex to purge, in the first place, for it to be a release. Right? Nothing is “real.” It’s not like… Passion of the Christ, which I have not yet seen. And I am not sure when I will, although I know I will eventually. Because that is not Cathartic Violence. I know it’s going to be disturbing and upsetting. Like i need that! sheesh.
I am not sure when I became so blood thirsty, when I started enjoying action films so much. I figure, it was around the time I went from being afraid of my older brother, to knowing that if I ever felt threatened again, I would be the one who kicked ass. I lived under the threat of being beat up far more than it actually happened. But it counts. I don’t think you can walk around on egg shells, trying to avoid that behavior that you know will set it off, for an entire childhood, and not leave angry. And when all that anger started coming out, against my orders, in my twenties, I had to deal with it. Which probably made me mad all over again. But, now I am left with a love of Cathartically Violent movies, a zero tolerance policy for his bull shit, and absolute knowledge that no one will ever put me in that place again.
I guess I won, in the end, huh?