I do not want a National Dad or even a Cool Brother (double-meaning unintended) for the President; I want someone with JFK’s optimism, Roosevelt’s steel, Truman’s irascibility, and so forth.
***
The hip quips, the Tarantino mannerisms – is there a hitman out there today who doesn’t engage in existential contemplation while reloading? – the endless sadism, and the amount of disbelief one must suspend requires the engineering genius of Brunel. Our hero, who’s been shot sixteen times and had his leg sawed off at the hip, somehow manages to stand up, aim, improvise an ironic rejoinder that calls back something said in the first ten pages of the script, then shoots the bad guy 37 times.
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