I love the Terminator series. In fact, I think it's awesome. Boo me if you want -- you know I'm right. There are, however, some beeves (yes, I've chosen the V plural instead of writing "beefs" -- leave me alone) I have with it -- and it's not the concept but rather how much the creators FUK UP the timelines of the series. As my friend Dave and I discussed one night over dinner at the ESPNZone where the Knicks were on television getting summarily pounded by whatever flotsam and jetsam was floating by, it's founded on a completely ridiculous notion. We all knew that -- the stupid predestination paradox that makes it possible for some dude (John Connor) to somehow be older than his dad (Kyle Reese).
But that's the item of suspension of disbelief we're supposed to accept if we're to enjoy the movie. I mean, it's about freaking walking, sentient robots in a man meat suit. That's already ridiculous enough for anyone who's not willing to enjoy a nice, unrealistic sci-fi movie, to walk out of the theatre. So let's throw that out.
Following are a list of things that I demand explained or amended by the Vice President of Fiction, and so help me God if he can't do it, the President of Fiction sure as hell better be able to. This is haphazard. Scattered. Unorganized. Growing. So you maybe can come back in a month and a half when I've actually chronologically ordered this pile of shit.
John Connor was NOT thirteen. (Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, or, Arnold's Botox)
Dear T3 Director Jonathan Mostow:
Hi! My name is Chupporito. When I was 11 years old, I saw Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Never mind that it was a rated R movie, and never mind that this is probably the first time you realized that it's spelled "judgment" and not "judgement". "Judgement" is not a real word. Anyway, on with the show. I saw Terminator 2. I loved it. I remember it like the back of my left hand, which I remember quite well because it's got a nasty burn scar from when I stuck it in a subway car door and then yanked it out for fear of getting dragged along with the train.
You know what I remember clearly about it? Allow me to turn fanboy and put on my nerd glasses. John Connor was ten years old in that movie. Yep -- ten.
So, riddle me this, Darlene: Why does (the well-cast) Nick Stahl recite a line indicating that he was thirteen years old when the T-1000 went after his scrawny ass (also when Robert Patrick's movie career began and ended; okay, that was harsh, I actually do like him, but HE WAS IN THE GODDAMN MARINE)? I mean, did you allow your writers to go up to Jim Cameron and Billy Wisher and say to them, "Hey, can I just kind of unload some feces on what you've already written in your fantastic, revolutionary blockbuster and just CHANGE the age of your Messiah just, you know, because?"
Only Living Tissue Can Go Through Time Travel, w00t (Terminator 2: Judgment Day)
So in the first Terminator, starring Michael Bean and Arnold Swasherbuckle (I know how to spell their names, I do what I want), Beanie's character Kyle Reese says that he couldn't bring weapons back because only living tissue could pass through the time displacement machine. So, Skynet says, "Fuk u, I put my robit in teh meat bag and give him hair and eys." Fair enough -- the original terminator, encased in homo sapien beef, is allowed through.
But if the T-1000 is a "mimetic polyalloy" of liquid metal, where's the beef?
"Fuck you asshole. I mean, uh... ..moo. I am so full of milk."
I mean, maybe Skynet wrapped Robert Patrick in a big meatball and sent him on through. Wait, a meatball is dead. Mkay, maybe they build a living tissue castle around him and when he touched down in Los Angeles he turned into liquid metal form and seeped out the asshole? Point is, Jim, you made a great movie, but failed to explain that. Do you know how much my sister traumatized me with the fact that your movie did not make logistical sense as compared to the original? Do you know how poorly I tried to defend my favorite movie against her female wits?
Ok, over-dramatic, yes. Bite my ass. Point is: Metal can't go through. Explain yourself.
Summer Glau Cannot Pull Off an Arnold (Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles)
Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles is a fun show. It's not perfect. It's not 24. It doesn't have Kiefer Sutherland in it. But it does have (shitty fanfic writers, get your notepads out -- your perverted, disgusting dream has come true) a female terminator. No, not a ridiculous shitty fanfic terminator like in Terminator 3 (if I say shitty fanfic three times in this piece you all owe me drinks -- oh wait, I win) with GUNS IN HER ARMS OMGLOLZ TAHTS SCURRY. No, a mostly plain bag-of-meat-plus-robot-skeleton model. In effect, she is the female Arnold in the series.
Now, Summer Glau as the terminator named Cameron Phillips ain't bad. Despite the headline of this item, the following is not really her fault but rather the fault of the writers. But here we go. Now, I know in keeping with the spirit of stuff like, "I'll be back," "Hasta la vista, baby," "No problemo," and all of that, the writers probably wanted to write in some Arnold camp. So what do they come up with?
John Connor (running towards the passenger door of a car): "I call shotgun."
Cameron Phillips: "I call nine millimeter."
I cried a little inside when I heard that line in the commercial for that episode, and then I absolutely bawled when I saw it in the episode itself. Come to think of it, I don't even think Arnold could have pulled that off.
There's more -- oh yes -- there's more to come.