Lastly, some jacked welterweight lookin’ stud strutted in with his girlfriend, and they plopped frontmost, split between myself and those rowdy hooligans. We were middle-right, no stadium layout, figure 250 seats? A group of teens munching snacks and arguing about kickflips or whatever sat back left. I waltzed into an empty theater alongside my film major buddy. You couldn’t stage a more thematic viewing environment for The Raid: Redemption. I knew I’d never forget my first viewing of The Raid: Redemption, because how can you replicate such an experience? My heart beat faster than Ruhian’s feet could scamper. I can still see Ruhian’s smirk, laughing at American action stars who hide behind piles of M-16s and. Squeezing the trigger is like ordering takeout,” spits Mad Dog at one point. Combinations of snapped limbs and stabbed jugulars moved with unheard momentum, heralding the pageantry in physical punishment beyond grunts, bodyslams, and imposition deemed by size. What was this international pulverizer doing with a matinee slot in my shopping center AMC? Uwais’ chops and punches flew quicker than a sniper’s round. The magic of The Raid: Redemption is it amps its crowd up to dangerous levels. Pencak silat becomes Evans’ nonstop weapon of choice the brutality of MMA octagons meets the hostile beauty of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Uwais and co-star Yayan Ruhian (villain “Mad Dog”) shine as the film’s lead fight choreographers once gunplay lessens, differentiating The Raid: Redemption from generic action films that’d keep stars blasting away like modern cowboys. The ratatat of emptying magazines is recognizable - until assault rifles silence. Rookie Rama (Iko Uwais) falls behind Sergeant Jaka (Joe Taslim) as they reach the sixth floor, then all hell breaks loose.
The Raid: Redemption lulls viewers into deceptive familiarity as Brimob special forces infiltrate an apartment block to arrest crime lord Tama Riyadi (Ray Sahetapy). The Raid: Redemption introduced Indonesia’s hyperspeed “ pencak silat” artform as an antidote to mountains of muscle throwing one another through concrete pillars. And yet, American bullet barrages from Rambo to Smokin’ Aces worshiped the masculinity of Stallone types or fully loaded shootouts. I knew action flicks could be more than bulgy biceps and gunsmoke - my father’s sixth-degree black belt certification in Taekwondo meant a household of martial arts appreciation. Point gun, inhale cigar smoke, pull the trigger, exhale a quippy retort to a cold corpse. But The Expendables, for better and worse, represents everything stateside audiences crave in their blockbusters. Don’t get me wrong - Sylvester Stallone, Chuck Norris, Jean-Claude Van Damme, and other ass-kicker icons hold their own as masters of foot-and-fist combat.
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My action movie vocabulary reflected popular culture, and in 2012 terms, that was The Expendables. Cable stations played Broken Arrow or Die Hard on repeat. in 2012, I was limited to whatever screened at my suburban New Jersey multiplex.
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The major movie and TV anniversaries of 2022īack when the movie was released in the U.S.
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