So I saw The
Lego Movie not too long ago, and I’ve never been filled with more rage.
Not because I didn’t like it, mind you; I think it’s amazing. But if you’ve been reading this blog for
long, you may know that when it was in theaters, I didn’t go to see it;
instead, I went to go see the 2014 remake/reboot/repugnance that was RoboCop, as tribute for my brother’s
birthday. Calling it a miserable experience would be an understatement.
But now I’m mad all over again because instead of going to see a movie
with incredible visuals, impressive action, intelligent design, and a final act
that puts the whole story in a brand new light, I and other people saw
cinematic tripe. And unlike me, some
people willingly chose to see RoboCop.
Because nostalgia. Or because “it’s mature”.
My blood’s about to boil through my skin. So let’s move on to the topic
that’s been on my mind: how stories get you to feel something. Besides a
blinding maelstrom of fury, of course.
