At The Movies With Angry Gorilla
I can do a remarkable impersonation of Michael Caine introducing himself and then eating an invisible banana (or whatever invisible fruit is preferable and in season at the time). It was at a party, while doing that very impression and pantomiming fruit eating that I first learned of the film The Island, from 1980, starring Michael Caine. The film starts strong, and much like Tom had Rene at hello (I was once held captive and forced to watch Jerry Maguire and listen to Color Me Badd for fourteen hours, which is how I learned English and shame and that I do not care for small, blonde, mostly balding gorillas with above average-sized heads), The Island had me at axe-wielding pirates, people in small swimming bottoms, and numerous flying bloody body parts.
Michael Caine plays a reporter who plans to go and investigate the disappearance of a number of sail boats and yachts in the Caribbean, but his ex-wife throws a human wrench into the works by dropping off their son with him for the weekend unexpectedly. Caine decides to bring his young son along on the investigation with the promise of a fun trip to Disney World (just as soon as they solve the whole missing boat mystery because surely that won’t take up the entire weekend). They set out on a drive, stopping along the way to maybe grab a snack, buy a gun for the kid to play with on the way to Disney World, and take a leak. They then hop into a tiny plane with a shady (he is decidedly sweaty and wearing little shorts) pilot, and after a crash landing of sorts, they all flee the wreckage mere moments before it explodes.
Caine and his boy find themselves on an island, which is pretty much abandoned, save for some old nut-ball man and some law officer type person. Caine tries to make the most of their misfortune by renting one of the crazy man’s boats and taking his son fishing (practically the same thing as Disney World, so everyone wins). Things seem pleasant for the moment, I mean, what could possibly sully a nice relaxing fishing excursion? An ill-tempered pirate with a great big knife jumping up out of the water
and onto your little boat that you rented from some wack-job on a desolate island. The good news is Caine still has his boy’s gun and shoots the tetchy pirate, killing him. The bad news is there are more pirates with more really big knives and now they are really mad.
The indignant pirates take Caine and his boy to another island with nothing but a shit-ton of fuming pirate men and one livid, very recently widowed (by Caine’s gun-toting hand) pirate woman. After a fair trial of spitting and shouting and laughing and taunting and setting various things on fire, the pirates decide that Caine should be the widow’s new thruster man and make a baby with her in the hopes of strengthening their gross, incesty bloodline (let’s face it, these guys are not getting out to the clubs to pick up non sister/mom/daughter/cousin/aunt/grandmother dames much) with Caine’s wang. It is also deemed appropriate to take Caine’s boy, rename him Rhubarb or something, and turn him into a ruthless blood-thirsty murderer who hates his real dad (Caine) and only answers to his new dad (Crabbypants Pirate). As you can imagine, a process resulting in changing everything one has ever known or loved as the base of their well-being and very existence would take a while, like a good two to three hours.
Caine (now prisoner/breeder man) and his boy (now biological dad hater/new little brat pirate) are brought along on the next yacht pillaging raid, upon which Caine notices many large bags of cocaine and the pirates encounter and kill many drunk/high people and one ready to fight everyone while donning only his tiny underpants guy. Fortuitously, some Coast Guard people are looking for this cocaine and stumble upon the pirate yacht takeover and things seem to be looking up. My point is, cocaine saves people. Or, maybe not and they are all severely knived and die horribly. But, as luck would have it, there are plenty more Coast Guard people and lots of cocaine to find…so that all of them can be brutally slaughtered too, leading to some confusing Coast Guard radio talk, “Our men were attacked by pirates.” “Pilates?” “Pirates.” “Pyrex?” “Pirates.” “Prom dates?” “PIRATES!” Now, I don’t want to spoil things for you, but let’s just say Micheal Caine suddenly turns into Rambo and we all know there is nothing like a giant blood bath to remind you who your real daddy is. All right, we’re going to Disney World!
I am giving The Island one angry thumb up because, in the words of a reasonably furry man who is wise in the ways of life, love, and oatmeal, “It’s the right thing to do and a tasty way to do it. Diabeetus.”