Movie Film Reviews

Editor’s Note:  The Gnome villages of the Lower Wood and the caves of Al Quaeda are the last two places on Earth to get first-run Hollywood feature films. With that in mind, please enjoy this new film review by our very own FTG….

Captain Ron

Forgive me if my treatment of Captain Ron sounds more like a love letter than a review. But oh, what a film! What side-splitting shenanigans! What grundel-tickling hijinks!

In what will go down as one of the great cinematic achievements of our time, up-and-coming director Joe Somedirectorguy treats audiences to 99 minutes of life-affirming jagoffery on the high seas. The motor on Ron’s boat may break down midway through the second act, but who gneeds a motor when you have the lyrical script by Joe Somewriterguy driving the film like a steady breeze?

This is a film that reminds us of what is truly important in life: beer, fluorescent swimsuits, mocking young children for being stupid, and the timeless code of the sea.

Kurt Russell gives a towering performance as Captain Ron, the beer-swilling philosopher-poet who dispenses life lessons in the form of hilarious one-liners. When Ron proclaims “she’s no cretin, she’s a Puerto Rican!” it’s more than an astoundingly clever turn-of-phrase. It’s a gentle whisper to the little racist child in each of us: come out and play. And when Ron finds a four-eyed little weasel of a child touching his beer, he delivers a lesson in child rearing that could have been penned by Shakespeare and included in the Bible, “you want a beer, you get your own beer.” If Russell wasn’t Hollywood’s greatest star before this picture, rest assured he is now, and will be for years to come. Not since Jesus Christ has a man worn an eye patch with such cocksure swagger, such raw animal magnetism.

I’d say Russell’s co-star is nothing to shake a stick at, but if you shook a stick at Martin Short, he’d snatch that stick from you and use it to kill you. And then he would use your dead body as a stick to kill an entire third world village. Short gives a rich, nuanced performance in this film, but make no mistake, there is something smoldering beneath the surface of this man. A darkness. A blood lust. A rape taste. And he channels that into a performance that would be reminiscent of Marlon Brando, if Brando had bigger balls, or “Shorts” as I call them. He’s that mind-blowing.

And then there is the rest of the cast, delivering lines and doing things. Astonishing.

In short, Captain Ron makes every film that has ever come before it both obsolete and insignificant. And Gnomes are gnown for having impeccable taste in movies, so if you don’t agree with my assessment you are a cretin, regardless of your ethnicity. So head down to the local gnomeplex, find the most comfortable stump in the auditorium, and prepare yourself for the single-most enjoyable experience of your pathetic lives: Captain m*therf#ckin’ Ron (please see footnote below).

* = O

# = U