Hell, the Viceroy told me this was gonna be an art movie

The subheading of this blog, "Men across the nation search for greatness in action films" was penned as a sweeping and dramatic nod to the fact that the contributors are far flung. More realistically it should say "Men in the central time zone plus two in the western part of L.A. get giddy about shitty movies". This would more accurately reflect the identities of the participants (until we acquire a friend in the east) as well as the purpose of the quest.

So, anyway, I'm not sure where Sean lies his head after drinking a cube of delicious Old Mil Light, but the Viceroy and I may be the most closely located pair of contributors to this blog. This offered me the opportunity to snag "Italian Stallion" from him this morning before it need be returned to Cinefile. I won't belabor many points, as he covered it all quite nicely just a couple days ago, and the movie hasn't changed aside from perhaps being more grainy and poorly lit than it was when he put it on the spin cycle in his video-playing machine. In the interest of full disclosure of my habits, and further discussion of a momentous piece of film, however, I record here some supplementary thoughts.

* I would update "panty hamster" to "panty chinchilla". That, or those are some very ferocious hamsters.