All the great warrior movies show nations of Antiquity training their best people from an early age — Sparta, Rome, and now Akkad.
It takes six years of constant training and hardship.
These days, six weeks in basic training, and they ship you off to the front lines. That may have worked in Vietnam, but these days the Army rejects 80% of applicants because they are either too fat or too dumb.
Although, you’ve got to wonder about these new Black Scorpion boys with their cute black leather bras, long hair, pony tails, and swords. They look pretty sharp in their tight black leather pants, too.
Hollywood loves to dress up their boys and consign them to the king’s personal harem, er — I mean, personal guard. The buxom babes in this flick have one serious case of penis envy, carrying those giant swords around like they do.
The bald king never grows old with audiences. There’s just something irresistible about a man who’s never feminized his body with daily Rogaine doses, a man who takes what God gave him and who depends upon his inner strength, his personality, and his inner beast to impress the ladies.
This king literally exudes machismo. Alas, but that’s oh so politically incorrect any more. Men should be sensitive, fey, and fickle.
I doubt if modern kids can relate to our hero’s motivation, though. Not the part about spending the night in a harem of shapely, well-oiled beauties. I mean the part about honoring (avenging, no less) his father’s death by black magic mustered by the king’s evil sword master.
Kids just aren’t raised in the old Biblical ways any more, to honor their father — if they even knew their father in the first place.
Alas, fathers are too busy with their own narcissistic pursuits. Kids are there for a tax deduction. Even the good fathers are constantly denigrated in our fav films. Hollywood loves their boys young, nubile, and unattached so they can become sexually confused easily and thus easy plunder for gay perverts.
Every good young adult romance, you should know by now, needs a gay scribe to get in the middle of things. He steps in whenever sexual juices between the two romancers begin to simmer, thus transferring, in one magical dramatic slight of hand, the audience’s (both you male and young female viewers) to his person, his gay person.
Thus begins the epic adventure, with the wise gay scribe leading the audience by the nose with his constant, aggravating, subliminal interjections.
He’s prepping you all with his silver tongue to become good young gays and lesbians, first as gullible fodder for the old timers, then as sexual predators in your own right.
After all, we all know that straight young men are there in the script for their brute force, straight young ladies are good only for their bitter tongues and deceptive feminine whiles, which leaves the prototypical gay scribe there to provide the brains for the whole operation, the heart and soul, the end of all ends.
Of course, this whole clever subterfuge is kept well out of your conscious mind by cleverly introducing the minotaur — that mythical half man, half beast monster of Antiquity, the living embodiment of all things gay.
It threatens your subconscious mind with fear while deeper inside the reptilian part of your brain the monster takes hold.
The charming young lady is key here. She’s brave, stalwart, loyal, and ingenious.
Beware!
Here comes the monster…
