Before going, we got dinner at a pizza place in Schaumburg - can't remember the name. It was good. Family pizza parlor kind of thing: kids running around while parents are drinking beer. No, not Chucky Cheese. What's it called? Anyway.
We're sitting in our booth; I'm watching college softball because it's on the TV for some reason and I can't help but to glance at it occasionally because of the bright flickering lights, when suddenly my girlfriend and her brother start laughing. 'What's so funny?' I asked. Apparently some kid near us had shouted 'Popsicles!' No context to the outburst, just a little voice shouting 'Popsicles' with all the glee that a little kid can muster.
Sometimes you just want a popsicle. Why? Because they make you happy. There's no nutrition to speak of; the damned things are mostly frozen corn syrup and food dye. But damn it: it's Saturday afternoon and I just spent the past week running around with little to no free time for myself. I want a popsicle.
Iron Man II is a popsicle.
"I am a popsicle. Lick me."
I could summarize the plot, or say something about how the sequel is good but not as good as the first, but really who gives a damn? Can we be honest for a minute? There are explosions, there are hot cars and cool special effects, there are battles with robots; there are attactive women running around; there are super cool actors like Robert Downey Jr. and Mickey Rourke.
There's probably no artistic value to it other than to reinforce the fact that archetypes are archetypical for a reason, and there's certainly no omega 3 or whatever. Who cares? Look outside: we're halfway through May going into summer.
Iron Man, kiddies. It's cold, it's sugary and it's artificially red. Treat yourself.