File Under: Bad Movie, Great Monologue.

You know what the problem with Hollywood is? They make shit. Unbelievable, unremarkable shit. Now I’m not some grungy wannabe filmmaker that’s searching for existentialism through a haze of bong smoke or something . No, it’s easy to pick apart bad acting, short-sighted directing, and a purely moronic stringing together of words that many of studios term as prose. No, I’m talking about the lack of realism. Realism. Not a pervasive element in today’s modern American cinematic vision. Take Dog Day Afternoon for example. Arguably Pacino’s best work, short of Scarface and Godfather Part One, of course. Masterpiece of directing, easily Lumet’s best. The cinematography, the acting, the screenplay, all top notch. But they didn’t push the envelope. Now what if in Dog Day, Sonny really wanted to get away with it? What if – now here’s the tricky part – what if he started killing hostages right away? No mercy, no quarter. “Meet our demands or the pretty blond in the bellbottoms gets it in the back of the head.” Bam, splat! “What, still no bus?” Come on. How many innocent victims splattered across the window would it take to have the city to reverse its policy on hostage situations? And this is 1976, there’s no CNN, there’s no CNBC, there’s no Internet! Now, fast-forward to today. Present time, same situation. How quickly would the modern media make a frenzy over this? In a matter of hours, it would be the, the biggest story from Boston to Budapest. Ten hostages die. Twenty, thirty. Relentless, bam bim, one after another. All caught in hi-def, computer-enhanced, color-corrected. You can practically taste the brain-matter. All for what, a bus? A plane? A couple of million dollars that’s federally insured? I don’t think so. Just a thought. I mean, it’s not within the realm of conventional cinema…but what if?

Outside of the soundtrack, a pair of overrated breasts, and this monologue, Swordfish is dreck of the highest order.