A Review by Noah Antwiler
It's a funny thing, love. It can make even the most rational of us act illogically, rashly, even violently. And it can make already whacko people bounce around on Oprah's couch like a maniac. I never really saw what the problem with all of this is, or why the current obsession with Crazy Cruise is being rammed down our throats over more important stories of the day. Who knows how goofy you'd be acting if you were in love. True, you probably wouldn't be bouncing around on furniture or practicing greco-style wrestling with sassy black women, but dudes can act pretty kooky when they're getting laid. It's expected. Guys usually give a free pass to their friends when they're in the initial "love slave" phase of a relationship, offering wearied patience to their buddies as they sigh wistfully, spend more time with their girlfriend on gaming nights, and get into ridiculous "You hang up," "No YOU hang up," debates over the phone. Sure, Tom Cruise is acting like a complete dork, but I know one thing for sure: if you were having sex with Katie Holmes you'd be frolicking in the streets and singing it from the rooftops too.
That's just one example of a recent string of events that seems to paint a picture of Tom on his recent collision course with career suicide (at least, the press is painting it that way). Another widely-publicized event was some jokester reporter squirting Tom in the face with a gimmicked microphone, in response to which Tom gave the reporter exactly what he wanted by losing his cool and giving him a verbal dressing-down in public. In my opinion, Tom actually seemed fairly rational and justified in his "how fucking juvenile are you?"-style response. In all likelihood if I were in Tom's position, I probably would have snapped and shoved that microphone up the reporter's ass sideways. But I'm probably more unstable that Tom Cruise is, so that's not saying a whole lot. Tom's also gotten into arguments running his mouth about Brooke Shields and psycho-pharmacology, bickering with Matt Lauer about how we should never medicate psychological problems. I won't pretend to know the slightest thing about psychology and medicine; I haven't done research like Tom claims that he has. Most of my research is done with a half-assed Google search and pillaging CollegeHumor.com and RottenTomatoes for goofy Photoshopped pictures. Maybe Tom's got a point about how we over-medicate people, but it seems like he's talking about his problem with medicating people at all.
This is where most of the Crazy Cruise Controversy comes from; most of us prefer our celebrities seen, and not heard, because when they start butting into other people's personal business or voicing their own opinions on politics or religion, they become annoying fast. It's nothing personal. We just want our celebrities to shut the hell up and make good movies, and we don't care a whit about their stance on Iraq or modern psychology. The rest of the controversy comes from Cruise's affiliation with Scientology, and a seeming horrified attitude among the press that Tom's just indoctrinated poor, sweet, innocent Katie Holmes into the religion. And there's the pink elephant in the middle of the room. I think Scientology is ridiculous, and a testament to the gullibility of mankind. But then, I think the same thing about almost every example of organized religion out there. I just broke my own rule about blabbing about my views on religion, didn't I? I know you really don't care, but my point is that you shouldn't care. Tom and Katie are both consenting adults, and they're free to practice whatever they damn well please, no matter how moronic I happen to think it is. They could be practicing naked voodoo covered in lime Jell-O for all I care, and I still wouldn't understand this attention given to Tom and Katie.
Wait...Katie naked in lime Jell-O? Actually that does get my ju-ju risin'...
In an attempt to prove that I bear no specific animosity to any religions in general, I will attempt to offend all faiths equally. I fear the wrath of no god or nature spirit! I've got two angry Wiccan ex-girlfriends and I haven't been struck by lightning yet, you spiteful witches! Keep trying!
Tom plays a working average Joe named Ray Ferrier, a crane operator in Jersey with a failed marriage and nothing but hot dog condiments and a bottle of vinaigrette in his pantry. The ketchup and mustard I get, but the vinaigrette raises a lot of questions. Ray's a hard-working guy, but only where his job is concerned. He's usually too burned out from his job and his late night sessions hooked-up on the E-meter to devote much attention to understanding his kids. As a result, his kids Robbie and Rachel have developed a frustrated simmering anger towards him. Young Rachel seems willing to help bridge the gap, but Robbie's turned into an apathetic seething pot of nihilistic teenage angst with bad hair and an iPod-- the kind that listens to Stabbing Westward and the Crash Test Dummies. Robbie vents his frustration with passive-aggression, with exaggerated and overt disinterest in Ray's blue-collar scumbag lifestyle. Ray's wife traded up for a better model when she got divorced, a wealthy smirking asshole named Tim. Robbie's mired in the middle of the standard Sylvia Plath-ish "Fuck You Daddy" phase, embarking on his own "whaddaya got" rebellion against Ray.
On this particular weekend, the battle lines are very clearly drawn as Robbie emerges from his stepdad's minivan wearing a Boston Red Sox cap, in direct opposition to Ray's well-worn Yankees lid. This is perhaps the scariest moment of the movie, as any real Yankees fan might imagine. There is no greater act of betrayal for a Yankees fan but to have his son wear the colors of the goddamn Red Sox. Ray shows a considerable amount of restraint at this by not tearing Robbie's scalp off, for it's written in the Book of Judges: "Thou shalt honor thy father's favourite team. If a father dost see that his son hast forsaken the most holy Yankees for the most queer Red Sox, he shall taketh the boy before his village and stone him to death. Thou shalt not abide thy children to place any teams before the Bronx Bombers." It's all because Robbie's stepdad, Tim, is filthy rich, so these weekly visits tend to disgust Robbie. Because nobody in their right might really wants to visit New Jersey if they can help it. Anyway, Tim's heading down to Boston for the weekend so they're dumping the kids off with Ray.
In a way, War of the Worlds is a microcosm for the epic struggle between the Yankees and the Red Sox. A baseball game, if you will, that decides the fate of the universe. For the fates of Robbie and Ray are inextricably tied to the mutual struggle for dominance between Boston and New York. Most of the movie rides on the opposing ideologies and attitudes between father and son, and in this way, the apocalypse will determine which team is supreme. Whose fanwankery will best protect them in the face of complete genocide?
Trust me, this is important.
Ray's sensing a lot of hostile vibes from Robbie, so he takes him out back to play catch. Ray drops the Full House act and calls Robbie out on the carpet, demanding some respect and to know just what bug crawled up his butt. He punctuates each question with an increasingly more impressive fastball. Robbie's full of whangst (a mixture of whining, wanking, and angst), giving the standard bad-daddy rundown carrying the general messages "You never understood me!" "You never paid any attention to me!" and "The divorce is all your fault!"
Ray's all "Yeah well that's no reason to be a dick," and throws a faster pitch.
"The Last Samurai sucked!" Robbie retorts and throws it back.
"Fuck you, except for the ending, Ken Watanabe and I kicked serious ass!" Ray snarls. A faster pitch still.
"Bullshit," Robbie spits, "it was all completely implausible, you surviving a barrage of gatling guns and being the last white samurai ever. And what the hell was up with the ninja attack?"
"Since when does anyone complain about a movie with ninjas in it?" Ray shouts, throwing the baseball back with an intensity that leaves Robbie's hand stinging. "And that's half of what I got," he boasts.
"Oh yeah? Well Magnolia was completely homo," Robbie retorts.
"Respect the cock!!" Ray roars, throwing his mightiest fastball yet. Robbie steps out of the way and the baseball flies straight through a window.
"Looks like I just tamed the vagina," Robbie smirks. Ouch! Score one for Boston.
Disgusted, Ray goes back into the house to sleep. By the time he wakes up, Rachel's ordered hummus for everyone and Robbie's stolen his car. Ray's furious because hummus tastes like ass, but he decides that he'd better set about strangling the life out of Robbie, or it'll never get done. He sets foot outside and sees everyone else looking at the skies, where some kind of maelstrom is forming. This is the first of what has become a staple of Spielberg cinematography: shots of people turning ponderously to look at stuff with slack expressions. Don't believe me? Check it out, and witness about 70% of War of the Worlds.
I got a million of 'em! Anyway, this strange weather phenomenon looks like some kind of gigantic nor-easter, so Ray calls inside, "Hey Rachel, wanna see something cool?" The two look on as they witness the strange storm ahead. Ray notes (rather astutely) that the wind is blowing towards the storm instead of away from it, and the violent, repeated lightning strikes quickly scare them under the kitchen table. Ray tries to play it cool and calm Rachel down by looking out the window and saying casually, "Okay so that lightning was close, but don't worry; lightning never strikes twice in the same place." Of course, that's exactly what happens, so his backpedaling doesn't really help matters when he covers up his gaffe by saying, "Uh, I meant three times. Four. Five. Si-se-eight times. Never strikes eight times. Damn it!"
That's what you get when you talk about Zeus in jest! Either that, or Lee Travino was out golfing again. Poor guy.
Ray decides to head out and see just what got hit by a half-dozen lightning bolts. On the way he runs into Robbie, promises to kill him later, and notices everything electrical has shorted out completely. At the scene of the lightning strikes, he witnesses weird mechanized alien tripod things erupt from underneath the earth. It's the aliens back from Xenu, and they're here to take back their Thetan souls! The machines loom menacingly over the huddled populace and greet them with a friendly 5 note sequence...
"Give us our Thetans back, you ugly bipedal freak!" they demand over their loudspeakers.
"Never!" Ray shouts, flinging his middle fingers in the air in classic New Yorker defiance. Meanwhile, some of the bystanders busy themselves recording the proceedings with their camcorders and cameras, despite the fact that nothing electrical is supposed to be functioning.
"He dares insult us with his primitive monkey digits without suction cups!" the Xenusians gasp in shock. "We'll show you!" And then they proceed to spray everything they see with death rays that turn people instantly into ash. Bummer! We go from aliens who want to say hello and play rousing games of musical Simon Says, to aliens who want to smoke us like a dimebag. Ray is disintegrated instantly. Well he should be, but because he's the protagonist he's granted the requisite Disaster Movie Hero allotment of 30 extra lives because the writer input the Konami code before typing out the script. Ray leaps and dodges death beams as the entirety of Jersey is annihilated behind him. He scurries back home and packs up food and his gun, announcing that it's time to evacuate. Ray commandeers a minivan that his mechanic buddy fixed up earlier and drives away from the tripods as they turn everyone Ray knows into Crystal Lite lemonade mix. Robbie scores a run on an error because Ray rather stupidly went to investigate the alien phenomena, but Ray gets the run back in the bottom of the inning by managing to nab the only working car in New Jersey.
They drive to Ray's ex-wife's house and run around inside, shouting for Tim. Um, hello kids, they're not home. The very reason they dropped you off with Ray is because they're driving down to Boston for the weekend. You'd think if anyone would remember that, it'd be the kids. Ray's the first one to catch on, and seems sheepish for a moment that he'd forgotten this one critical fact. But the electricity is working here, so Ray tries to pass it off as intentional. "Um yeah, I meant to come here anyway because uh, the lights work and we can hole up here until they get back." Ray's still paranoid about the aliens who just wiped out his hometown, so he forces everyone to bunk in the basement. Tim's basement is nicer than most people's homes with a complete gym, sitting room, and its own fully-staffed Starbucks. Antoine the Starbucks Clerk rather helpfully prepares Ray a triple-mocha grande latte with extra foamy milk while he sits down to think.
Their reprieve is a short one. The aliens, desperate to pillage Earth for its massive stores of underarm deodorant, press on their attack. They've got 3 legs, and who knows how many multiples of arms. Hey, that reminds me of a joke.
Q: What does a Hindu wish someone on their birthday?
A: May you have many happy returns.
Oh bite me. That one kills in India.
Anyway, it's a good thing they were in the basement, because a plane drops out of the sky and crashes straight into the house. I think we've found where rest if the plane in Donnie Darko went to, guys. Suddenly that whole movie makes sense. My favorite part of this scene is the utter devastation of the house and surrounding environs, and yet the van looks like it's just rolled off the showroom floor. Ray pokes around the wreckage and finds a television news crew busy pillaging the plane crash site for its in-flight meals. I know things are desperate, and it's the end of the world, but think about what you're doing! It's not worth it! There has to be something else around that's better to eat. I don't know...dog feces, the corpses of the dead, Funjuns. Okay maybe not Funjuns. Ray pesters the reporter with questions like "Do you know anyplace that's safe?" "Have you managed to kill any of them?" and "What's the current color level of the Terrorism Alert warning?" I'm guessing orange!
The reporter gives Ray a withering look at his awesome stupidity as if to say "My God man, what hole did you crawl out of? New Jersey?" She shows him tapes of the American armed forces being less-effective than the Japanese trying to repel Godzilla. At least the Japanese military managed to somewhat annoy Godzilla. The aliens have cool shields that block anything the military throws their way. If only Optimus Prime were here, he could stop the aliens in no time.
Ray's plan is a dubious one: to reach Boston because...uh...his ex-wife and Tim are there? Why is he going to Boston? Because he loves that dirty water? This is a terribly bad plan, and it seems that New York's defense is all over the place tonight. Boston scores again at the top of the third. The Yankees just aren't playing well this year. Robbie also thinks the plan is stupid and desperately wants to join the military convoy driving the other way to fight them. Ray fights down the urge to bitch-slap the stupid out of his son and tells him to try and wrack his walnut-sized brain for a plan that doesn't involve driving towards the alien deathmobiles. Ah well, they'll figure it out soon enough. As Confucius say, man who walk through turnstile sideways going to Bangkok.
Ray goes down to try and get Rachel into the car without alarming her with the horrible plane crash and the mountains of mangled corpses piled everywhere. "I'm gonna lead you outside," he starts, "and you're gonna want to look around at the piles of shredded flesh and maggot-ridden bodies, but you're not going to. Just ignore the howls of the dying and look at me. Nowhere else. Actually, just read this." He hands her a copy of Dianetics and chucks her in the minivan.
Ray seems acutely aware that people will try to take their car because it's one of the only vehicles that works, and yet he keeps blundering onward to a populated city. Sure enough, he reaches the ferry, which is swarming with a teeming mass of ignorant, impulsive humanity. Why is everyone so eager to cross the river? Is Massachusetts some fortified bastion of mankind's defense, and nobody told me? Maybe everyone just wants to see Curt Schilling's bloody World Series sock before they die. Maybe it's just an illustration of how mobs seem to think that no matter where you are, the grass is always greener on the other side. What happens next is about as predictable as figuring out the next episode of CSI: Miami is going to suck. It's odd to notice that the town they're now in has a working ferry and electric lights, yet none of their cars function.
The mob riots at the sight of Ray's car, pull him out of the driver's side window, beat him up, throw the rest of the family out, and steal the van. Worse, Ray loses his gun in the struggle. Robbie's plan, while stupid, seems vindicated in the face of Ray naively driving towards a panicking mob in the only working car around. Boston's offensive rally continues!
Demoralized and beat-up, Ray & Company decide to press on to the certain refuge of Boston. But the mob is still swarming the ferry, and the few soldiers around are barely holding them back from taking it over completely. Ray tries to negotiate with the soldiers to let him on, to no avail. Rachel comes to the slow realization that the aliens are coming and after a significant Looking Scene, Ray somehow manages to sneak his family onto the ferry. This is a great victory, because the one place you want to be when aliens with death rays attack is on a brightly-lit boat in the middle of the water with no possible cover. Oh wait, did I say "victory?" I meant the dumbest decision Ray's made yet. Sure enough, the alien tripods lock onto the ferry like the last beer at a Super Bowl party and capsize the hell out of it. Way to go, Ray.
Despite being hurled into freezing waters, nearly chopped into coleslaw by the ferry's props, and hit right in the face by falling cars, the Ferrier family manages to swim to the opposite shore with nary a scratch and free of hypothermia. The aliens are everywhere, and soon the military rumbles into fight them. As before, they're completely ineffectual, but Robbie seems witlessly insistent on running towards the battle and watching it, probably to help if he can. He's under the delusion that these things can be fought with plucky American "Don't Tread on Me" spirit. Ray tackles Robbie and holds him down, screaming in his face, "LISTEN you damned FOOL! What about the thousands of people we've seen turned into Nutra-Sweet DIDN'T scare you away from the eighty foot tall alien killbots?" Antoine the Starbucks Clerk runs about providing espresso to the beleaguered soldiers. Robbie begs and pleads to go, and Ray tearfully tries to explain, "You don't understand, Robbie, it's the Thetans giving you negative thoughts!" Robbie has none of this and charges into the battle screaming "Navy SEALs! Navy SEALs!!!"
Moments later, the aliens death-ray the crap out of all the tanks and vehicles, and the entire landscape beyond the ridge is engulfed in a raging inferno. Reeling from his son's death, Ray staggers into the basement of a local good Samaritan. Hey, that reminds me of another joke:
A man appeared before St. Peter at the pearly gates. "Have you ever done anything of particular merit?" St. Peter asked.
"Well, I can think of one thing," the man offered. "Once, on a trip to the Black Hills out in South Dakota, I came upon a gang of high-testosterone bikers, who were threatening a young woman. I directed them to leave her alone, but they wouldn't listen. So, I approached the largest and most heavily tattooed biker and smacked him on the head, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring and threw it on the ground. I yelled, 'Now, back off biker boy or you'll answer to me!'"
St. Peter was impressed. "When did this happen?"
"Just a couple minutes ago."
Seeing as how Robbie's dead now after enacting his retarded plan to CHARGE the aliens completely unarmed, it seems that the Red Sox have collapsed in the late innings once the bullpen took over. Matsui slams one out of the park with the bases juiced. Looks like Steinbrenner might be a madman, but he gets results! Yankees take the lead, and Robbie's dead! There's no coming back from this! Go New York!
Ray tries to console Rachel with an unhealthy dose of denial, saying, "Even though we saw Robbie immolated before our eyes, he'll meet us in Boston." He's then greeted by the owner of the basement, an ambulance driver named Ogilvy. He's a rather inconsistent character with less brains and sanity than the programming directors of the G4 network. 2 hours of shows about custom car-tuning and drag racing on a network about video games? What the hell? Ogilvy tries to buddy-up with Ray, speculating on the nature of the alien attack. "They've been planning this for a million years!" he says. I don't think we ever really found out why these aliens have chosen to invade, other than perhaps they want Earth's natural resources. The aliens themselves can't seem to decide whether or not they want to turn us into biscuit mix with their kill-lasers or drain us of blood and use it as Miracle-Gro for their weird red veiny tentacle stuff that they decorate the planet with. If they wanted our natural resources, why didn't they just take over the planet a million years ago before we'd screwed everything up by polluting the environment and depleting those very same resources? If they wanted to harvest people, why are they exterminating nearly everyone they see? And why do the military's vehicles work?
"This isn't a war any more than there's a war between men and maggots," Ogilvy raves, looking oily and radiating B.O. like a cloud. That being said, Ogilvy rather irrationally declares his intention to lead Ray and Rachel as the new human resistance against the aliens. Who does this guy think he is, John Connor? Talk about delusions of grandeur, dude. I think ol' Andy Dufresne got a little brain-damaged when he crawled through those sewer pipes on his way out of Shawshank. I thought all this talk about men and maggots was meant to imply that we stood no chance against them, you flabby white wanker! He's talking about two guys pushing 50 and a little girl leading a guerilla resistance against an army of impervious alien invaders. Even the perpetually-caffeinated Antoine the Starbucks Clerk seems shocked at Ogilvy's mania, and finds himself a nice quiet corner to go set up his milk-steamer.
"All occupations inevitably fail!" he shouts, raising his shotgun triumphantly in the air-- because the shielded aliens are really gonna shit themselves in fear at the sight of your boomstick-- "Constantine taught us that!" What does Keanu Reeves have to do with any of this?
Spielberg seems to feel the need to pad out the film a great deal here, and so we're stuck watching as he rips off more of his old trademark scenes, like the heroes being forced to hide and hold their breath while some looming predator searches for them. You know: raptors, robotic spiders, a huge tentacled eye thing that looks like a giant lighted penis. They manage to avoid being probed by the robo-penis for the moment, despite Ogilvy being a complete psychopath, but his insane ramblings and shouting about Skynet seem certain to draw attention down on Ray and Rachel. Ray decides the only way to ensure his family's safety is to crush Tim Robbins' head into a gooey red paste. He had it coming for that terrible Martin Lawerence movie Nothing to Lose, anyway. It's worth noting that Tim Robbins' character in Mystic River was a staunch Red Sox fan, and Tom Cruise totally kicks his ass! Score one for the Yanks! This is really out of control!
In a clever twist, just as soon as Ray and Rachel tosses Ogilvy's dead body into a crawlspace, the Robo-Penis returns and finds them anyway. Tentacles zip around the basement and abduct Rachel. Ray desperately runs outside howling "TECH SUPPORT! TECH SUPPORT!" and marvels at the weird terraforming the aliens have done. The entire landscape is covered in that mooshy red veiny stuff that appears to be made of people goo. It's sort of like what would happen if the fungus-covered pizza under my friend's dorm bed was left unattended for two million years. Speaking of unnatural fungus, that reminds me of a joke:
A little girl asked her father, "Daddy, is God a man or a woman?"
Not wanting to instill societal prejudices in the child's young mind, the girl's father chose his words carefully before replying, "God is neither male nor female, black nor white, straight nor gay."
The girl thought for a moment, then asked, "You mean God is Michael Jackson?"
Ray decides to get militant, straps a bandana around his head, and dubs himself Raybo. Raybo loots a National Guard jeep and steals a bunch of hand grenades. He tosses one at the tripod that's captured Rachel, but it doesn't have any effect. The tripod turns around, mutters something about "ugly pink chimpanzee things never learn," and swoops Raybo up into a basket full of other human prisoners. The basket is perched underneath a fleshy sphincter, from which a tentacle issues forth and pulls people inside periodically. Ray heroically leaps in front of one of the tentacles, gets pulled up the tripod's ass, throws a pair of hand grenades inside, and escapes! The tripod explodes spectacularly and collapses to the ground in a smoking ruin, like Tom Cruise's career. But sadly, Antoine the Starbucks Clerk was crushed to death beneath the tripod's flaming husk. The caffeine levels of Antoine's blood are so high, Ray and Rachel only have moments before all the stored potential energy causes a catastrophic explosion they barely escape from. It looks like Tom's pulled off the impossible by actually defeating one of the alien tripods in combat! He's done something the entire world couldn't do! Big point to the Yankees side. Looks like Mariano Rivera's coming in for the save.
Ray and Rachel doggedly press on, desperate to reach salvation. Their Mecca. Their only hope. Boston. Hey, Mecca! That kinda reminds me of a joke!
Q: What is life's biggest problem for an atheist?
A: No one to talk to during orgasm.
What? I can't think of any Muslim jokes.
The family reaches another city, where Ray notices that the red veiny moss stuff is beginning to wither and die. Army soldiers hustle everyone quickly down the streets past a fallen hulk of another alien tripod. Ray asks what happened, and the soldier responds "Jeff Goldblum managed to wirelessly hack the tripod's computer with his Mac and upload a virus that killed it." Actually that's classified. The soldier just says that the alien started walking around in circles and collapsed by itself, like most Bostonians stumbling home after the World Series win. Another tripod stumbles into view, staggering this way and that, looking completely gorged from eating way too many humans in one sitting. It leans against a building and sprays nauseating fluid from both ends...like most Bostonians on the weekend. Ray notices something profound.
"Hey," he exclaims, "why was Jamie Foxx nominated for Best Supporting Actor in Collateral? If he was the supporting role, who was the lead? The taxi?" The soldiers look at him funny, so he points at the tripod and shouts, "Look! They don't have shields anymore!" The soldiers smack themselves in the head and blast it to kingdom come with their rocket launchers. They cautiously approach the wreck, and see that a hatch opens up, a deluge of orange Nickelodeon Gak rushing from the orifice. Eeeew alien puke. A spindly little hand emerges from the hatch...
"Ouuuuuch..." the dying alien murmurs as it crawls out of the hatch and looks at Ray with sad eyes. E.T. reaches out with his glowing finger towards Ray and begs him "Beeeee gooooooooood..." Then the poor Xenusian passes away. Ray, you bastard, you killed E.T.! All he wanted was Reese's Pieces! I really hope in the Director's Cut DVD of this movie, Spielberg digitally replaces all the soldier's guns and rocket launchers with walkie-talkies. I'm not sure what he'll be able to do with the tanks, though. Maybe he can turn them into Weinermobiles or something.
Ray and Rachel finally reach the legendary safe haven of Boston, once a glimmering metropolis of safety and commerce. But now...
IT'S ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL!!!
You'd barely know there was an alien apocalypse if all you had to go on was Boston! Ray's ex-wife emerges from her house, flanked by the real hero of this movie, Tim! That's right folks, Tim and Mary Ann were able to stay exactly where they were at home and the entire alien invasion just blew over! There aren't even any broken windows! No rotten alien terraforming stuff! Tim and Mary Ann just spent the entire Armageddon watching VH1's 100 Most Awesomely Bad Songs and probably never even knew that all life on Earth was nearly exterminated!
"I thought we said you'd have the kids back at 9:30 on Sunday, Ray," Mary Ann scolds him.
It's almost like the aliens didn't even bother to attack. Boston must have been on their "when we get around to exterminating it" list. Rachel's face lights up at the sighs of her mommy. "Tim!" she exclaims, "I missed my real daddy!" Ray looks crestfallen and looks around for a suitably high roof to leap from, when Robbie emerges from the house.
Robbie. Emerges. From. The. House. He's still alive?? What the-- NO! No! Noooo no no, I'm calling shenanigans! Robbie you crazy bastard, I saw you die! Everyone saw you die! You can't-- It's not possible that you-- *firp* WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? He's still wearing the same clothes that he was before! Not only did he manage to survive a direct kamikaze charge into a full alien attack, he doesn't even have a hair out of place! I mean yeah, his hair's always been pretty bad so it's hard to tell, but c'mon! Hell, he beat Ray to Boston! Start smoochin', movie! I want answers! Did Robbie somehow find a crashed alien vessel with a magic green power ring? This is such bull!
What the common audience member doesn't know is that this supposedly ludicrous scene is rather spectacularly explained in a deleted scene that shows how Boston escapes any serious damage. Of course, my sources have unearthed this scene, which I will now transcribe for you:
The Pat-Radar blares a warning in the Hall of Patriots. Tom Brady, leader of the New England Patriots sees the aliens rising from the earth and signals the rest of the League to mobilize! When the tripods erupt from underground, the New England Patriots fly into the scene in three squads, led by Tom Brady, Doug Flutie, and Kevin Faulk! The Patriots activate their Football Powers Cosmic and unite into a group of modular Megazords. The Brady-borg throws giant flaming footballs of plasma, blasting one tripod clean out of the state! The Faulk-a-zord zips and weaves through the defense, outmaneuvering the tripods and spin-kicking one's head clean off! The Flutie-borg reaches into its utility belt and throws a deadly array of adamantium Flutie Flake Shurikens!
The tripods reel under the assault, but they're soon reinforced by more aliens. The Evil Warlock Robot Steinbrennazord snarls at Tom Brady and raises his magic checkbook, shouting "Fool! Moneyball is the only way to win championships! Magic checkbook, make my monsters GROW!!!" The aliens quickly inject an unbelievable amount of steroids and swell to four times their normal size! The Patriots look to be on the verge of defeat!
"Not so fast, Steinbrennazord!" a heroic voice shouts from the haze of smoke beyond, and a new league of superheroes boldly strides onto the field.
"Johnny Damon!" Steinbrennazord gasps.
"That's right! And your evil domination of the sports world is about to end once and for all!"
"I thought I cursed you! The Curse of the Bambino can never fail!" Steinbrennazord says in a panic.
"Not since we learned to work as a team!" Jason Varitek shouts heroically!
"That's right," the Designated Hitter David Ortiz says, swinging into battle with his grappling-hook-launching bat, "Teamwork's the only way to win it!"
"The curse is broken," Trot Nixon declares, "Now face our justice!"
"And we're totally gonna kick your ass! It's wallopin' time!" Kevin Brown roars, entering his berserker rage. He punches a wall for emphasis, breaks his hand, and starts cursing.
With that, the Super Sox leap into battle! Johnny Damon transforms into his wolfman form and tears a tripod alien clean in half with his super-claws! Ramon Vasquez and Kevin Millar leap on top of another alien and piledrive it into the ground with their patented Double Play maneuver. David Ortiz unsheathes his mighty Asgard Slugger, swings on top of a Steinbrennazord, and goes to town!
"Damn you, Super Sox!" Steinbrennazord curses, "I'll return, twice as strong as before! With more money! More free agents! I have prospects, you fools!"
Tom Brady laughs heartily, "Everyone knows that your farm system is utterly depleted!"
Holy cow! Robbie's alive after all! This glorious victory comes as a shock to New York fans everywhere, as Rivera folds like origami in the ninth! He walks the bases loaded and blows it just like he did against the D-backs in game 7! Walk-off grand slam! Red Sox win! Red Sox win! Looks like Robbie was right the whole time! You can blindly charge the aliens and emerge unscathed! And somehow, Tim managed to keep the entire family in Boston completely safe while Ray was off being chased by giant robotic penises. How about that?
The concluding voiceover happily informs us just what happened. Anyone who's familiar with the old H.G. Wells knows that the ending to this story is a rather dull anticlimax: the aliens, despite being technologically advanced were defeated by the myriad infectious organisms on our planet that we've grown immunities to, but the aliens have never encountered. At the time, this ending probably wasn't questioned much, but we live in a more cynical era now with snarky movie critics. We who find it a little hard to believe that aliens who mastered space travel a million years ago haven't figured out antibiotics (even if it were likely that Earth bacteria and virii could affect their physiology). I prefer to believe that Paris Hilton slept with all of the aliens in an attempt to curry their favor, and ended up giving them an epic number of sexually-transmitted diseases that claimed their lives.
Come on, people now. Smile on your brother. Because it's time to do the Hippy Hippy Shake! Crazy M.C. Cruise., get DOWN with yo bad self!