Immortals (2011)

The first shots of “Immortals” are breathtaking in their 3D glory. We open on a massive stone cube and we then swoop in to see black-grime-covered men, lined up perfectly, their heads held in metallic clamps, their teeth clenching rods. It’s another startling image from director Tarsem Singh, the visual artist who made “The Cell,” a flick that took us inside the mind of a serial killer. There’s not much on anyone’s mind here, just insanely buff guys clanging swords and spears – hey, nothing gay here – during the ancient days of Greece. You know the tale: After his family dies, mad King Hyperion calls war on the gods and slays thousands of people as an attention grabber. The brave peasant Theseus -- who is the son of an earthly woman and a god, does that sound familiar? -- must stop him. The talking bits are ridiculously serious and full of blowhard boasts, especially when our hero rallies his troops “Braveheart”-style, but the blood-soaked action is something to behold. Henry Cavill, soon to be Superman, is the stalwart hero. Mickey Rourke is Hyperion, a bit too cool and ironic. From the makers of “300,” but not nearly as bloodily cathartic. B-

The Expendables (2010)

If you have not seen “The Expendables,” stop reading now. I’m about to throw a snit fit about the ending to this rehashed 1980s brainless action flick that goes further retro with a 1960s “Dirty Dozen” suicide mission homage. But not a single one of Expendables is … expendable. None. This is a G.I. Joe cartoon, AARP style. A suicide mission flick without a suicide. Like porn without skin, useless. WTF!?!

Director/co-writer/star Sylvester Stallone is Barney Ross, leader of the Expendables, a pack of tough-as-leather American mercenary soldiers out to save a woman and topple an evil Latin dictator. Which they do. Quite easily. Like I said, they all live to clink beers, throw knives and assure each other that none of them is gay, despite the fact that none of them can live with a (eww, girls!) woman. And they constantly talk about each other’s bodies without end, cause all guys do that, right? We are talking “Top Gun” territory here, without the volley balls.

I just sat dumb struck as Stallone missed the entire freakin’ absolute point of the iron-clad, Suicide Mission genre. Heroes die. I remember watching “Dozen” and “Bridge on River Kwai” plus “Predator” as a teen, gripped, thinking … Who will die next? (Alec Guinness! Noooooo! Run Carl Weathers! Run!) There are zero surprises. Zero reasons to pay attention. Zero reasons to call this “The Expendables.”

This is a dullsville. That’s wild to say, with Jason Statham, Dolph Lundgren, Jet Li, Terry Crews, Eric Roberts and Randy Couture among the beefed-up mother farmers, good and bad. (Steven Seagal, where art thou?) Look, it’s not a terrible film. The carnage is over-the-top 1980s bad. Meaning good and bloody. Of the cast, Lundgren has the most spark. A better word: hunger. The former “Rocky IV” boxer looks hungry for new stardom. Mickey Rourke wonders in as an ex-Expendable turned artist, and then wonders out, quickly. Why?

Teeth grinding abounds. We get the villain’s obligatory and endless half-mile run to the escape helicopter, helpless woman in tow, and, by God, did any one – CIA included – get a memo that it’s 2010, not 1984? No one even has a Word Processor. Motion sensors? Oh, wait, what, David Lee Roth quit “Van Halen”? Damn! You don’t say. See what I’m sayin’? And can we get a Linda Hamilton/Sigourney Weaver shout out? No. This film is Rush Limbaugh approved. Women are near mute with submission.

Now the worst part. “The Expendables” delivers a scene featuring the Holy Trinity of 1980s Action Stars: Stallone, Schwarzenegger and Willis. It falls flat. Set inside a church, Willis is another CIA goon, pitching the suicide mission to the former Rambo and ex-Terminator. The scene took months to schedule and film, by all accounts. Yet, it plays slapped together, uneven and meanders to a crap ending. Schwarzenegger plays it awfully sarcastic. Stallone appears exhausted. Lastly, Mr. John McClane suggests oral sex all around. (Huh? Oh, yeah, homophobic jokes were funny 30 years ago, too.) No one does it. There’s a sequel coming, though. Maybe one of our heroes will get blown away. One way or another. C

The Wrestler (2008)

"The Wrestler" is another gem from director Darren Aronofsky ("Requiem for a Dream"). Mickey Rourke, long absent from any decent film, plays Randy "The Ram" Robinson -- not his real name -- an ex-professional wrestler whose life stopped in 1990. He lives in a crap trailer that's as beat-up and meshed together as his own body, and he owns nothing made past the Reagan era. But he's not dead. Yet. This film nails lower class life in central New Jersey, the loneliness of boardwalks, and the life of middle-aged wrestlers living in Zombieland. (I once wrote a story on similar wrestlers. Writer Robert Siegel nails every reeking sweat-flop detail. It's like a documentary of that one weird night.) This is deep, poetic film about a simple man who can take the horrific physical violence of the ring, but not the emotional punches of life. One of 2008's Top 5. Rourke is amazing. A