Black Leather Wanking Claws (or how I learned to stop worrying and love the idea of the A-Team movie)
The A-Team. As regular a feature in my childhood as Creamola foam and the ice cream van, it’s very presence signalled “Saturday.” Just as MacGyver would do later, once George Peppard and his lads had left the building.
Yes, it was pretty ridiculous. Jesus, they could make armoured vehicles out of old sheds, build light aircraft out of parachutes, and were masters of some of the worst disguises in television history. Nine times out of ten, the person in dire need of the team’s help was female, leading to the obligatory Face “romancing” – but only after Hannibal had got out of his fancy dress costume, and Murdock had been broken out of the asylum. Insert B.A. plane hatred at random. The bad guys never really got hurt, and I thought the A-Team was great.
Now it makes it’s way to the big screen with director Joe Carnahan at the helm, and try as I might to stay away, and poke at it with a disapproving barge pole, I am suddenly feeling a mild level of excitement…
Oh fuck it. Gonna have to fit the line in somewhere, I’m riffing with the A-Team after all.
So here it is: I love it when a plan comes together.
Oh yes. You have me by my strap-on cock and balls, Carnahan. I’m liking this.
By the time Bradley Cooper bursts through the hatch of a tank (which is somewhere in mid-air, with parachutes attached) and starts machine gunning the hell out of a plane, I have almost pissed myself. Total fucking mayhem. Quinton Jackson being dragged along the ground – on some form of harpooned door – at speed? With sparks and shit flying all over the place? Oh Christ, this looks like high octane, cheap thrill cinema that cannot be avoided. The utter madness of the original A-Team series looks like it could be there in full force, only multiplied by twelve. Or something.
But what, pray tell, of the actual A-Team themselves? Not much on show to judge by yet. A lingering slow motion shot of a topless Face? I can dig that…
With his hand creeping inside Jessica Biel’s jacket, there is the suggestion that Mr Cooper is more than capable of bringing on the suave eighties sleaze, a la Burt Derelict. Classy. Maybe this False-Face will turn out to be a masterpiece of swaggerin’ charm.
And what of Liam Neeson as Fake Hannibal? F’Annibal, if you will. Again, not much to go on. No comedy beards visible, though the cigar is present…and hold up, there they are at 1 minute 10 – the leather wanking claws! A prerequisite for any would be John Smith. Even Face is sporting the bastards!
The “Bad Attitude” of Jackson is only shown by him slamming the van door into someone’s head. Let’s hope there’s a lot more of this type of thing. I want real violence from this A-Team. I want to see “Rampage” set loose. Will he hate planes? Who gives a shit? I just want to see him smash the place up. I want deaths Carnahan, actual real consequences of all those flying bullets! And I want them now! Villains crawling out of flaming wreckage just doesn’t cut it these days. Look at the Die Hard death count.
Anyway, back on track, getting carried away there…onwards to the pilot.
When I was about six, Face may have been on a par with Han Solo crush-wise, but Murdock was my childhood hero. A mentally unstable, certified “mad bastard” who acted out his life as various different made-up characters, believed inanimate objects were intelligent beings, had an invisible dog, and was content with giving people the impression he was an idiot? Best role model you could ever have while growing up. He’s had a lasting effect. If I elaborate here, you’d call the local community mental health team immediately. But there’s really no need. I adhere to the Philip K Dick philosophy that everyone makes their own reality. I like mine.
The Tao of the Howling Mad is still working out fine for me.
There’s very little of Sharlto Copley’s Murdock on view which is disappointing. About two lines in total, so it’s far too early to say anything. Don’t let me down, man. I’ve been singing your praises to anyone who’ll listen these past few months.
With cameo appearances from Dirk Benedict (damn fine!) and Dwight Schultz (fuck yes!) I’m really starting to look forward to this. No Mr T, but I think he’s too busy with his ovens and the like.
Why the likes of Benedict is considered “one” for the ladies is kind of baffling. If you do a bit of googling, you will see he was so dim, he was verging on the definition of special needs.
Dirk Benedict was, initially, some sort of odd-job Lawnmower Man type character around the studio lot where they filmed, but because of his “face”, he passed a screen test.
His two tasks onscreen were as such:
1) “Roll your eyes when the madman talks, and look into the camera with the red light on”
2)Talk to the pretty ladies when they come in the room.
He managed both, though with the latter, wasn’t even aware he was being filmed.
The A-Team was pretty much the pinnacle of his work, though, far better than that Quantum Leap. Though I did like the one where he travelled back to Nazi Germany and woke up in bed with Hitler.
Now that was not a plan that came together, as it were.
Benzine, it appears that you’ve left out an important part of the Face’s eye roll routine: the flaring of the nostril, and the failed attempts at “Harrison Ford-esque lip curl.”
It’s these qualities that may have led to the man you refer to as “verging on the definition of special needs” being such a hit with the ladies.
Well it’s that or the tiny shorts he would often sport. From memory, they left little to the imagination. Seeing pictures of the new Face, open-legged in a sarong, I think they are going for a similiar angle.
With regards to the Quantum Leap episode, is that “Bunker Boy” from Season 3? In which Burt leaps into the body of Joseph Goebbels and must work quickly to keep his eccentric co-star, Adolf, from being killed or committed to a mental institution because of his “wild” theories about travelling in time?
Oh man, it’s mirroring those Murdock plot drivers all over again isn’t it? What a carry on, Benzine. What a carry on!
[...] absolutely nothing done today. But as long as there is a cigar hanging from Hannibal’s mouth, and there are black leather wan…, I remain [...]
[...] related posts: Black Leather Wanking Claws (or how I learned to stop worrying and love the idea of the A-Team movie… [...]