Last night I was thinking about the Sylvester Stallone ’80′s action pic, “Cobra.” I saw it in a theater when I was a kid and loved it.
I wanted to be an edgy cop who wears shades all the time, chews a match stick and shoots bad guys in a ghetto grocery store. Upon reflection twenty-five years later, however, Cobra is a stinker.
The film itself makes no sense at all. The bad guy has followers who clang axes together in an abandoned warehouse…why?
Even the product placements are bad. When Stallone is prepping to “off a hood,” he takes a swig of a warm Coors just sitting there next to 2-liters of RC Cola. What store still had 2-liters of RC Cola in 1986? And what store leaves individual cans of beer sitting around for kids to sample? And if Coors helped finance the film, did it really think a warm can in a bad grocery store under siege would make me want to buy a case?
Then there is the big final fight scene, which takes place in a factory where apparently no one works (except a security guard who looks like Grady from Sanford & Son). In addition to the lack of personnel, one may simply stroll into this factory through huge open doors despite there being fire, molten steel and, for no apparent reason, deadly rotating hooks on pullies every where!
But despite plot holes, bad acting and truly terrible music, I would probably watch Cobra again.
Because even though Matt’s brain knows the line, “You’re a disease…and I’m a cure” is ridiculous, my heart of hearts believes it to be awesome. I want a nickname like “Cobra.” I want a .45 with a Cobra tattoo on the handle. I want to be the quiet but dangerous cop on the edge. I want an overweight, red-faced police captain to yell at me, “#*%! Cobra! You’re a loose cannon!” I want to shoot punks on motorcycles with a machine gun from the back of a pick-up truck (I’ll work out the theology behind this later).
Cobra is horrible. Yet, Cobra is awesome. So, does that make it the best worst movie of all-time?