So the Terry and I finally went to see The Revenant, and I decided to write a review. This review has nothing to do with a personal desire for vendetta and to prove wrong a bunch of ignorant halfwits that disrespected me when I called them ignorant halfwits for saying that the movie was a bore, undeserving of the Golden Globe Award for best Motion Picture. I did want to watch it and I did want to review it.

THE REVENANT

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD

The Revenant is not a bore. Not at all. It is an excellent movie and I enjoyed every second, even if I forgot my glasses in the car and I was a bit gassy from having rushed through dinner. Now, I must say that from an objective LGBT+ perspective there were a few offensive parts. For example, the one part one would be interested in pausing and analyzing better when it comes out in DVD, the full frontal, is ruined by some unnecessary gore. Yes, indeed, the one naked man dies. How sad!

The bear scene  is too, quite upsetting. How offensive and unrealistic! I remember I thought. Prolonging stereotypes of bears as violent and unkind creatures! Just because they’re hairy and fat doesn’t mean that all bears are evil. Anyone who has ever attended a Bearracuda event at the Faultline knows that bears tend to be quite friendly. Bears are extremely nice, and they are a lot of fun, much more so than most other kinds of homosexuals, especially those with a lower body mass index. Granted, they can be scary at first sight, and they do smell funny, a combination of sweat, leather, tobacco, and sometimes urine, but bears just wouldn’t go and try to kill you! They’re kind, affectionate, and very solicitous. They’re always offering you drinks and asking if you need a place to spend the night.

“This is what’s wrong with Hollywood,” I whispered to Terry. “Always portraying a twisted, unrealistic, negative image of the LGBT community. For as long as the lame-stream media continues spreading this kind of lies and awful stereotypes, the public will have a poor image of the community. It is so unfair!”

“I think the bear is a female,” he said.

A female? The violence then made sense. I met two lesbians once, and they were quite nasty.

Then the French are the bad guys. One imagines the reasoning went like this: We need to justify the attack of the Arikara, so as to not make Native Americans look as blood-thirsty savages, but we can’t make the Leonardo DiCaprio party look bad. “Blame it on the Mexicans,” an intern must have said, but Iñárritu may not have approved of it. They were changing the novel and real-life events to make it more politically correct. They couldn’t blame it on Blacks, Muslims, Transexuals, or any of the obvious targets either. They gave Leonardo DiCaprio a son who wasn’t in the novel, to justify his thirst for revenge. He can’t just be wanting to recover his rifle! How could they blame it on white people without blaming it on American white people? The French, of course! Well, when you imply that the French are evil you insult France. And when you insult France, you insult Mireille Mathieu. You insult Paris. You insult the Dieux du Stade, the Galeries Lafayette, Le Dépot, and everything that is cherished by gay people!

Again, the movie isn’t boring, at times it reminded me of that other excellent film, where the river plays an important part: The Good Dinosaur. Both depart from reality but stick to the hero’s path like the sweaty underwear of that guy you like to spy on at the gym lockers. No big surprises. The end is absolutely predictable, and I must say extremely disappointing. Yes, one feels sorry for poor Leonardo DiCaprio, but—Tom Hardy! If one is objective, we have, on the one hand, a definitely straight, nature-fan man (meaning gas stations with no toilet seat covers) who takes the raw diet to an extreme and is full of horrible and permanent scars; on the other hand, we have a handsome young man, with money ($300 could buy a lot of shoes in 1823), who wants to relocate to Texas (not quite Southern California, but, hey, better than Middle-of-Nowhere Montana), has an undisclosed sexual preference, and whose only physical defect can be easily disguised with a ball cap. Who would you choose, if you were one 100% objective? Of course, Tom Hardy. Yes, he plays a cold-blood murderer, but if Lynne Cheney can sleep at night with her husband, couldn’t you share a bed too with Tom Hardy?

4 out of 5 stars.

****

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