Nicolas Cage is the New John Agar

Last night, Doc and I watched "National Treasure", our first DVD to arrive from Netflix. I tried not to get my hopes up too high, I mean, I knew it wasn't going to be a treasure hunting movie that would rock my world like the Indian Jones movies did. But I thought it might be at least as fun and engaging as The Mummy starring Brendan Frasier.

It wasn't.

The characters seemed to be adults, but they were possessed by eleven-year-old spirts. Abigal, the immigrant National Archivist with a heart of gold and an indeterminate accent, acted like a know-it-all, talked ceaselessly, and kept trying to snatch the "Document" or "Declaration" (which they bafflingly yell out loud in croweded, public places, while they were trying to hide from the police, the FBI and the villain) from our hero. Ben, our hero, is an obnoxious fact spewer who can solve puzzles in a miraculously short amount of time. He bugs with surgical preceision when he plays keep-away with the Document and when it seems to warm his heart that Abigail is such a blow-hard (just like him). Riley, a brilliant computer scientist, turns into a precocious child when the topic turns to something he doesn't know anything about, i.e., everything outside of the world of technology. At one point in the movie, when they are all trying to survive the collapsing staircases in the treasure catacomb, I said to Doc, "I hope they all die down there."

Doc, a generous man by nature, told me I ought to give the film a break, "It's a Disney film, for crying out loud."

"Pirates of the Carribean was a Disney film, too and it was also produced by Jerry Bruckheimer; how come this movie is such a piece of shit?" I demanded to know.

We could only guess that they had a lot of money and very little time. Afterall, it was important that Disney capitalize on the lust for treasure hunt/cryptography genre that had taken the world by storm in 2004. The scenary was nice, the special effects were interesting. The plot? Shallow and cheap. It felt like a movie that someone made at camp. Asthma camp.

I did realize one thing, though. Nic Cage's Ben Gates was precicely on par with John Agar's Dr. Bentley in the 1956 offering The Mole People. Both of them delivered facts with smug self-satisfaction. Both of them treated priceless historical objects in a highly cavalier manner. And both characters believed themselves to be smarter than everyone else around them and God's gift to humanity vis a vis the historical legacy of our ancestors. Oh yeah, and they were both saints.

It kind of warmed my heart to discover this connection. This meant that National Treasure is a B movie and I love B movies. This movie is corny, out of rhthym, badly acted, made in a hurry using a formula, and totally preposterous. Voila! Instant classic! For that, I'd give it 5 stars. But as a quality movie, I'd give it 2, because, it is a piece of shit.

Movie Critic Rock Star Roger Ebert had this to say about it (I totally concur):

"National Treasure is so silly that the Monty Python version could use the same screenplay, line for line." "

And Wesley Morris of the San Francisco Chronicle:

"A bruising US history class, taught in Dolby Surround."

While I felt roughly handled and pissed off throughout this movie, I enjoyed it too. Doc and I had a spirited debate about it. I also had a good discussion about it with the girls from work. It made us feel very smart and kind of superior. For a moment, I was Dr. Bentley, randomly citing facts and looking down my nose at this piece of corncake. Ah, I love the smell of schadenfreude in the morning. It tastes like victory.