Inside Doug's Head

I am not a number, I am… What's that stuff they make glue out of? I'm that. Forever swirling, forwards and upwards, but always sticky. Sometimes, a little sad.

With weak writing and lazy plots, watching the glut of failed visions on various streaming services requires a suspension of disbelief if you’re going to make it past the ten minute mark. Santa Claus Conquers the Martians seems like a masterpiece when you read the synopsis, but the execution leaves a lot on the table. For some reason, I never expect anything bad to happen in a horror movie when everyone splits up to look for a way out.

Science fiction requires the greatest amount of disbelief suspending. Sure, you have technology that prevents everyone from turning into human paste on the cabin walls when the space ship accelerates from zero to the speed of light in a under a second, but for some reason, everyone falls to the floor when you hit a bump? In space? What exactly is a space bump? OK, I can overlook the myriad of inconsistencies in your story, but most people are familliar with the workings and effects of basic physics, so it’s going to be a hard sell convincing me that gravity behaves differently all of a sudden.

Finally reunited and pursued by the law, the vexed lovers head for the prosecutorial safety of Mexico, leaving me thinking, What about their suitcases? Won’t they at least need passports to get into Mexico? How’s that going to work? You just show up at the border with no ID, and you tell the agent that the reason for your visit is flight to avoid prosecution? And they’re going to be OK with that? Yeah, and I wish someone had closed the front door before they left. I know it’s a movie but they left the door wide open when they skedaddled, and it looks really cold out there. Such a waste of heat.

The hero throws a perfectly good lighter into a gasoline soaked vehicle, tosses away an empty gun, or discards an empty magazine. Those things are all reusuable. Rather than wasting a Zippo, you could set a stick on fire and toss it where you want the fire to be. The lighter might come in handy later on, when you want to do some of that smoking we’ve been promised. You don’t have to throw away a handgun just because it’s out of bullets. You can get more ammunition and refill the gun. You wouldn’t abandon your refrigerator when it’s out of food, or your car when it’s out of gas. Same principal, except with guns… and bullets.

Then, there’s the requisite stomping on cellphones for security reasons, to prevent gubberment agents and bad guys from discovering a location. Is that really necessary? Can’t they just turn off the phone, or remove the SIM card? Do they have to dramatically break an expensive, and reusable, phone into a million pieces?

During a robbery, a grinder is used to open a locked steel door. Where is the grinder plugged in at? The nut rubbers never say anything like, The cord doesn’t reach! We need an extension cord. No, never. Somebody always has the foresight in the building planning phase to have an outlet installed right next to the vault door just in case the use of power tools is required. Or, someone needs to make toast. Toasters and banking go hand in glove. Do they, though?

Remember when banks used to give you a toaster for opening a new account? That’s what I was going for, there. They installed an outlet right next to the vault door so that after you dropped off your cash, you can test out your new toaster. Because that’s how banks work. You walk your cash into the vault, leave it there on a shelf, and then the bank manager hands you a toaster, and says “Rub a dub dub. Thanks for the cash.” Then he polishes his monocle and twists his mustache, looking just slightly sinister. At least, that’s how I would write a bank scene in my Netflix special. Yay! We did it!


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