Ice hockey | Wanderings and ... wonderings.

Youngblood (1986).

The intro could not be more pure ‘80s in its gratuitousness, Rob Lowe puck action synced to cheese. The bloke has not aged in 40 years (paper rounds did not exist for him). Keanu Reeves is in it as the goalie and he hasn’t aged, either. Patrick Swayze features also and he munches on a rose. This is not a metaphor.

The family breakfast scene a few mins in is straight outta A New Hope (1977), almost word for word, action for action; I had to rewind and repeat because, yes, I am that sad.

I don’t know what this movie thinks it is or what the intention was, but it’s an amusing, entertaining breed of shite, a silly primary source from a silly time. But they appear simpler times.

It’s the Mighty Ducks on drugs. Any and all kind of drugs.

The Mighty Ducks trilogy – good god.

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Some things shouldn’t be revisited, mainly items from childhood that fill you with nostalgic joy. The Mighty Ducks movies are a mighty (sorry) example of this. I was convinced they were masterworks because time is an emollient cream of sorts. By gum, these films are fucking dire.

Where to begin? We can start with Emilio Estevez’s face. It is unchanging throughout. The bloke has the acting chops of a turnip and the charisma of a sock. If he were my coach I’d quit the team. What is even worse, though, are the kids. They are so annoying that I think I’d spike their milk bottles with cyanide had I passed through the school system with them. The one exception is the fat bastard from Keenan and Kel who pops up in the sequel; he’s the only critter there with an IQ.

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And what a mad movie D2: The Mighty Ducks (1994) is. For some reason the bad guys are from Iceland. Every single one of them looks 10 years older than their age and appear to be either Neo-Nazis or overgrown members of the Hitler Youth. Their coach is even called ‘The Dentist’; Marathon Man (1976) flashbacks kicking in.

However, the theme tune is splendid and the Flying V looks aesthetically pleasing even though it makes zero fucking sense.

The ’90s were an odd time.

Wanderings and … wonderings.

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Youngblood (1986).

The Mighty Ducks trilogy – good god.