Welcome To Con Air

Last night I revisited one of my favorite bad movies: the Michael Bay/Nicolas Cage extravaganza "Con Air." Oh Holy Night...this is one fantastic bad movie.

Now, by "bad movie," I don't mean it's not entertaining. I mean a movie that's so over-the-top and committed to it's goofiness that it's ridiculously fun to watch. I'd forgotten how gloriously stupid and funny "Con Air" was. I mean, when Steve Buscemi gives the most subtle performance in a film, you know you're in for a wild ride.

How do I love thee "Con Air?" Let me count the ways...

• Nicolas Cage with a goofy accent and even goofier mullet
• John Malkovich spitting and snarling like a rabid labradoodle
• Not one, but two scenes of people walking away from a fireball in slow motion
• The constant repetition of John Cusack's character's name (Vince Larkin) as if the audience is going to forget who he is
• The beginning of director Michael Bay's love of extreme close-ups of sweaty men (a motif that also rears its head in "The Rock" and "Armageddon.")
• The seizure inducing editing that makes you wonder if Bay's been tested for ADD
• A climax that has the villain stabbed, thrown through the air, electrocuted and having his head squashed, Wile E. Coyote style.
• John Cusack being the only action hero to ever help save the day in Huraches.

"Con Air" isn't just your average "turn off your brain" action flick. It's a "drink a bottle of tequila, smoke crack and give yourself a lobotomy with a screwdriver" action flick...and I dearly love it.