Apocalyptico Now, A Movie Review

Myan Eyes Have Seen The Glory Of The e.e. cummings Of The Lord
New Ethnomocumentary Proves Plausibility Of Retarded Insanity In Ancient Hollywood
By switters™
Posted Friday, December 8, 2006, at 12:56 PM CST

Man. What's with all the ancient Myan space alien zombies at the movies here lately? I'm beginning to think most of our civilization is outer space-based.

Still, Apocalyptico Now isn't your ordinary ancient Myan space alien zombie movie. It is, rather, an extraordinary ancient Myan space alien zombie movie. Or would that be "extra-terrestriadinary" ancient Myan space alien zombie movie? Hmm… Let me get back to you on that.

Harkening back to his documentary about the last days of Jesus, Mel Gibsen (Dances With Braveheart, The Patriotic Gladiators, Jesus Christ!) completes his trilogy, and trinity, by asking what it would have been like for us today if Jesus, during the lost years, had, actually, hung out with Aztecs and helped find and found the More Men Church, with all of the suggested homo-auto-eroticisms which that premise presupposes.

Answer: Caffeine would be illegal, as would celibacy. And ironic humor.

Apocalyptico Now tells the story of Joe Smith, religionist, linguist, and sometime polygamist, who stumbles upon an ancient race of pyramid builders no where near Egypt whilst collecting folk lore, dialects and wives in the southern tip of Mexico, only to become entwined in the intrigue that involves a particular tribe's proclivity toward the worship of a giant pyramid composed entirely of many cans of potted meat.

But faster than you can get un-circumcised, Jesus shows up in a nighttime vision induced by hanging upside down over a can of paint thinner, and invokes Joe to spread the "good news", which, it turns out, isn't that good, because parts of the Old Testament were cribbed from a discarded Martin Luther speech in Selma.

Meanwhile, wars a'brewin' at the rival tribe up the river, and Chief Waxes-His-Legs declares a jihad on all men above the age of 8 years old.

That, however, doesn't exactly sit well with King Smells-Like-Glue, leader of another tribe up the river, who proceeds to declare a counter-jihad on all women who are a little crazy. ("Uh, yeah, we're gonna need some more women.")

Meanwhile, Indy finds himself embattled with a secret tribe of Latin-speaking pygmies in the Outer Banks who worship polyester jumpsuits.

Talk about a whirlwind rollercoaster ride of emotional overkill. I haven't seen this much gratuitous violence since Air Supply's 1998 Reunion Tour: "We're Seriously Not Gay".

And with a twist ending that will squirt lime juice into a paper cut faster than you can say, "Boy I bet that sure hurt," Apocalyptico Now spawns a possible "postquel" in no short order and in so many words.

When the roll is called up yonder, folks, we don't want movies like Apocalyptico Now. We need movies like Apocalyptico Now, if for no other reason than it's comforting to know that you can deny The Holocaust™ while cashing in on allegorical narratives of it.

You're trampling out the wrong vintage, Jesus! That's okay. Those grapes of wrath were probably sour anyway.

…they were exotic badasses who knew how to whomp the hell out of one another, old-school.

[I mean, come on!]