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"It's like Vince McMahon got drunk and wrote a movie"- my fiancee, on the Marine.

"Did John Cena make that movie as a practical joke or something?"- my friend Robyn, a rabid pro-Cena activist.



To call "The Marine" one of the shittiest fucking movies I have ever seen would be paying it too high a compliment. Besides, that is an honor reserved for an equally treacherous but far less entertaining crapfest called "Eye of the Beholder" starring Ashley Judd and Ewan McGregor. In all honesty, as bad as "The Marine" is, it probably doesn't come close to half of the crimes on humanity starring guys like Steven Seagal and Jean Claude Van Dam. So at least it's got that going for it- but not too much else.

I honestly am not sure where to even begin. I could probably go right after the dialog. You are probably thinking to yourself "yeah, I can imagine it was atrocious". Well, you are wrong. Atrocious is sixth graders writing fan fiction about Harry Potter. Atrocious is the script in really bad porn. I'm not sure an adjective exists that concisely describes the dialog in "The Marine", but I am willing to bet money that it was mostly written by a bulimic teenage girl who was forced at gunpoint to regurgitate a bowl of Alpha-Bits. You kind of realize what highbrow stuff you're getting approximately five minutes into the movie, when John Cena's character John Triton (I'm operating under the assumption that Cena's character in the film was also named John to prevent Cena from becoming confused on the set) is given his discharge from the Marine Corp. His Oscar-invoking response: "But sir.... I'm a MARINE!"

Sadly, the script is probably the least of the film's concerns. There is also the matter of the plot. I have to tell you that when I type the word "plot", I'm laughing manically because you can't actually hear me do so. If you've viewed any WWE television in the last six months, you're at least acquainted with the synopsis of the movie: John Triton is discharged from the Marines, and upon his return home, his wife is kidnapped by jewel thieves, so Triton sets out to find her. Simple enough, right? Well, not only is that the plot synopsis, that's actually the entire fucking plot. There is absolutely nothing else going on. It is literally a fifteen minute set up leading to a one hundred and five minute chase scene.

If you are a veteran poster at OO, you may remember a thread going on last Christmastime about John Cena's bizarre "nothing can stop him. No, seriously, nothing" push. We all got a good chuckle out of it because we pretty much all assumed it was a joke. Apparently, it was not a joke to Vince McMahon. Not only does Cena not job to Edge, this film also asks us to accept that he also does not job to the following: shots to the grill from fire extinguishers; exploding gas stations; thousands of shots fired from semi-automatic guns (while at the same time maneuvering a police car in a very high speed chase); being in a car that explodes as it drives off the edge of a cliff; more gunshots; exploding bait shops; standing outside of a big rig that is driven through a wooden building with a metal roof; a direct hit with a sledgehammer (didn't Robert Patrick learn anything from Triple H's futility?); a flaming roof collapsing directly on top of him; and lungs full of water. That's a fairly impressive resume and looking back now, I'm surprised Edge was ever able to get one over on the guy. The best part of all of this is that Triton does not even bleed until the very last scene of the movie. I was honestly in my seat thinking that the only logical way this could be explained would be to reveal that the Marine Corp did biological experiments on him, grafting his skin with the hide of a rhinoceros, or perhaps at the end of the film, Jor-El would descend from the heavens to tell Cena that he was the last surviving son of Krypton.

Watching this movie was a lot like watching a retarded child riding a bicycle in heavy traffic: gut-wrenchingly terrible but also perversely amusing.

With all this in mind, you may be wondering if I have anything nice to say about this movie, and surprisingly enough, I do. In spite of the heaping pile of shit of a script the actors were given to work with, most of the people involved tried as hard as they could to salvage something from this film, particularly Robert Patrick and the exceedingly lovely Abigail Bianca. I had a disagreement with my fiancee and our friend about Cena's involvement with the film: I actually argued on his behalf, saying that I didn't think he was that terrible of an actor. They told me this was because he didn't have very many lines and I just didn't notice. I would say "you be the judge" but I wouldn't ask anybody to actually pay to see this film. Except for maybe GoVols or loki; they're Browns fans so they're obviously into masochism.

So with all of this said, here's the strange part of this film: I actually walked away from it feeling like I like John Cena a lot more than I did before. Maybe it's because Cena's got a certain humble likability that doesn't come across as much when he's in the wrestling ring. Or maybe it's because I just feel sorry for the poor guy: it's obvious that he really wanted this film to be something special, but he simply got no help from the writers or producers.