Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City
c movie of a game series inspired by b movies inspired by a movies. maybe it was doomed from the start, maybe there is no possible good resident evil movie. this is the worst one and it not even close. maybe we should let games be games and movies be movies and books be books and such. anyway this thing sleepwalks itself to death and passes away very politely. not a single character or arc in the whole damn thing, one color shots, completely bland. doesnt even have the gumption to try to do anything beyond some mildly brave and interesting casting choices, that ultimately mean nothing due to there being no writing in the movie. completely amorphous plot and occasional hollow references for 1hr n 40 or whtever. it cant even be trashy fan service.
i've been seriously considering why i am so drawn to plumbing the depths of this artform, why am i so morbidly curious about identifying and consuming the things i find most abhorrent. why do i keep doing this to myself. ive never seen a godard movie or a bergman movie. i have so much studying to do. well i guess i feel like these are my 20s, its time to learn my enemys movements like a boss battle. watch the motions of the beast very closely, during this time of my life where it feels less humiliating. i take art very seriously and i hope that when i am older i wont feel humiliated for taking such an interest in blockbuster adaptation franchise garbage, it really is studious after all and very genuine, nothing to be ashamed of. but there is some part of me that wants to go deeper and deeper and deeper until i finally feel satisfied, until i finally feel like i understand Artistic Wrong, as if such a thing could really exist. well i think it might and this movie is damn near close. its something about creation from a place of no heart. i love the tactless, i love the lack of skill, i love the amateur. but the lack of heart i cannot forgive, and our great american culture cant help but keep cranking its heartless hog. assembly line brand advertisement, keeping the legitimate folk legends alive the same as ever, but for all the wrong reasons, never honoring their heart. the tradition of narrative desecrated by money. aimless sleepwalking shambling down a corridor waiting to be shot by a shot gun.
are movies bad? is art bad? is everything destined to be corrupted? of course not. there is meaning to be created even out of this destitution. i get a sick pleasure out of finding my narrative of industrial sin inside of these kinds of movies. its why im so obsessed with the mcu, and resident evil sits in a similar cultural position. inspired by a genuinely glorious and beautiful piece of human artwork with legacy and emotion, stripped of that repeatedly in service of the profit idol, in many many ways in its home medium and then again, over and over again, in the movies. our beautiful archaic remnant of the time before TV, before the internet, before instantaneous unlimited free sex, drugs, and violence. when a special room with special machines could make you stare for a couple hours. maybe its all the same shit. i love stories. i want us to keep telling them. lets sit around the campfire and make up stories forever, no matter the shape of that fire. human tradition is immortal in our collective unconscious, and the contagion of imperial profit cannot truly poison that well, no matter how hard it tries, over and over. it may seem to subsume everything it touches, but i believe in the strength of the human spirit to triumph over that sickness despite it all. one day we will perpetuate our stories on this large of a scale again, on our terms, without a trace of this disease. one day we will be free. that is my narrative. that is the story i want to tell. fuck this movie. you made me miss the kicking the dog in the face and the trinity of bitches so bad.
(09-17-2026)