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This weekend Denzel Washington shows up in theaters as the lead in a movie called Unstoppable, about a train which is anything but. You know he'll eventually stop it in the end, and even if he didn't, eventually the thing's got to run out of gas. Unstoppable is more than just a word you slap on a poster, it's an epic achievement few, even in the fantasy world of Hollywood have ever truly accomplished. The Terminator may seem unstoppable, but how many times has he been melted down, blown up, or simply switched off by now? Horror movies are replete with all manner of seemingly unstoppable beasties, but in the end some hick town sheriff always seems to show up to get his man.
Being unstoppable means you cannot be stopped. Once in motion you'll stay in motion. Once set on a course, you'll reach your destination, no matter what obstacles are put in your way. It's the ultimate move, the all powerful weapon, the perfect villain, the infectious idea, the utterly invulnerable hero, the absolute certainty. No Kryptonite here. It's that which has not only never been beaten, but never will. These are the most unstoppable things we've ever seen on film.
Keyser Soze is unstoppable. He is death. He is pain, suffering and tragedy. He is a man, a myth and a legend. He is the guy behind the guy and the man behind the plan. He is money, unlimited power and greed. He wrangles the wills of men, engineers police line-ups and offers ninety-one million dollars for one hit he's ultimately planning on doing himself. He is tyranny and pure evil. He is a puppet master, a divider, a conqueror and a spook story. Rat on your pop, and Keyser Soze will get you. He kills his own wife and children to prove his singular focus. He burns buildings, murders associates and wipes out entire gangs. He is invisible. He is ever-present. He is the judge. He is the jury and executioner. He is the pestilence in I and the villainy in you. He is the boogeyman and the sandman and the monster underneath my bed. He is a web of lies and a whisper of truth. He is all that they say he is and all that they dare not say. He is poison. He is the scar of handsomeness and the redemption of repugnance. He is debauchery, sinfulness and betrayal. He limps, yet walks, knows all, yet remains quiet. He is a hex sign back when a name kept people from fucking with you. He is a figment of my imagination and a reality on your deathbed. He is devilry. He is witchcraft. He is the menace in all that is Dada and the hatred in all that is not Dada. He is toxins. He is the one you scorn. He is the one the best and worst among us emulate. He is the drive in oppressors and the opposition in dissenters. He, and only he, stops; therefore, he is unstoppable.
"They look like big, good, strong hands, don't they?" So wept the Rock Biter, one of the most powerful creatures ever to walk the worlds of Fantasia, shortly after finding himself powerless to save his friends from being taken by The Nothing. He couldn't hold on to them. The Nothing pulled them right out of his hands. The Nothing is the absence of everything. It doesn't exist, exactly, and so it cannot be stopped. The Rock Biter describes it this way, "Near my home, there used to be a beautiful lake. But then, then, it was gone. It just wasn't there anymore. Nothing was there anymore. A hole would be something, no there was nothing. And it got bigger. And bigger." The Neverending Story isn't about Bastian's quest to save Fantasia from The Nothing. That would be impossible. Eventually The Nothing consumes everything and, with only a spark left Bastian is able to recreate parts of it. But he hasn't really stopped The Nothing. It's always there, somewhere. Growing, and destroying, and erasing as we forget. Maybe it's already everywhere. The Nothing will be here any minute.
Being unstoppable doesn't always mean being the best all the time. It means rising to the challenge and claiming victory, no matter how hard you have to work, when it matters the most. Bill Murray's haircut in Kingpin is ridiculous, though not any more so than your average run-of-the-mill douchebag sixteen year-old that hates his dad. But as the tension mounts, as the world turns toward a one million dollar winner take all bowling tournament in Satan's favorite city, it builds and builds, a tornado of matted follicles and sideswiped extensions crushing the dreams of flattop fans and those appreciative of order, decency and all things kempt. Don't kid yourself, there's power in that unruly mop. Like an unstoppable juggernaut pointing toward the heavens and unleashing barely-hidden secrets of baldness, Ernie McCracken's combover propels him to victory, knocking over pins, crushing protagonist dreams and becoming the villain Voldemort wishes he was. There's no stopping the hair. In a perfect world, with luck on your side and a giant bottle of hairspray, you might be able to contain it, but when the moment comes and the combover is needed to crush more one-handed dreams, no one will stand a chance.
Let me start out this paragraph by saying the upper brass running Jurassic Park made an almost uncountable number of mistakes. They didn't employ enough guards, they hired Newman, and worst of all, they used frog DNA to fill in the sequencing gaps. We all know from playing Frogger that those bastards will try to cross the road at all costs, but Dr. Ian Malcolm and his chaos theory were right. Life will find a way. There's no stopping nature when it's pissed off at interlopers exploiting it for big business, just as there's no outwitting a pack of raptors hunting for human flesh. Your only choice is to sacrifice Robert Muldoon, but then who's left to protect you? Some bullshit fences that only work half the time, Samuel L. Jackson's below-average computer skills and that second grader who asks too many goddamn questions. Have fun putting up with that. And don't think science is your friend here either. Even without males, it took the dinosaurs all of two hours to start breeding like that 19 Kids And Counting family on TLC. Life will find a way, and if that way involves eating a few dozen humans, so be it. There's no laws against the most dangerous game once you're far enough into the jungle, and if it comes down to hand to hand combat, I wouldn't like most of your odds. Dinosaur growth is unstoppable. Life is unstoppable. Once you open that Pandora's Box, it's all severed arms and Jeff Goldblum I-told-you-so's.
It had been twenty-five years since a horse had won the Triple Crown, and America was in a state of crisis. Thousands of young men were dying in Vietnam, the President was implicated in a disastrous cover-up and the American people, for the first time, were starting to doubt their own country's intentions. The Civil Rights Movement and Roe v. Wade had fractured an already divided nation, and then this horse came along in the hot summer of 1973. His name was Secretariat, and he had a certain swagger about him. Big Red ran like he had something to prove. He won the Kentucky Derby and then the Preakness, creating a firestorm of media attention. He was on the cover of Time and Sports Illustrated. He was cheered by children and adults, hippies and the establishment alike. He was the people's horse, and he stood for nothing but unbridled greatness. Going off at ludicrous 1 to 10 (risk 10 dollars to try and win 1), millions of people still bet on their favorite. He had to win, was expected to win. Secretariat not only won, he unleashed the most devastating shit-kicking in the history of organized sports. He won by 31 lengths, shaved more than two seconds off the track record and did it all in front of the world. It's still the greatest performance I have ever seen. It may not have gotten us out of Vietnam or restored faith in the White House, but for one day, tens of millions of people put their faith in a big red horse and he delivered. There's not a living thing that has ever existed on this Earth that could have beat Secretariat that day. He was unstoppable.
The most famous female Muppet (sorry Janice) may seem calm, demure, and almost sickly sweet. But don't mess with her frog. When Piggy's pissed off she goes on the warpath and becomes an unstoppable force of pure, wanton, maniac destruction. She'll rip through anyone and anything that gets between her and her leggy green one true love. Walls, doors, ninjas, nothing's an obstacle when Piggy's fuse is lit and she's on the move. At least she'll let you know she's coming. You'll hear a "hii-yaah!" shortly before she unleashes sweet, unimaginably powerful swine kung fu moves and demolishes the brick and mortar in front of her to come blasting through the wall, where she'll inevitably turn your army into a whirlwind of flying feathers and cries for help. This strong, liberated Pig gets what she wants and when she wants something bad enough, she can't be stopped.
Like a pregnant woman desperately raiding the fridge for pickles and leftover pasta, Tallahassee's Zombieland Twinkee hunt is obsessive in its chaotic frenzy. Even as the zombies and teenage charlatans close in, there's always the search for yellowed greatness. Some days it's the main focus, other times it's backgrounded, but it never disappears. Nothing will do but a Twinkee. When Tallahassee and company discover an abandoned Hostess truck filled entirely with that pink coconut shit, you know there's no way in hell he's cutting his losses and settling. You know who settles? Losers and people on quests that are stoppable. Tallahassee is neither of those things. He's a reckless, scary son of a bitch that wants a goddamn Twinkee. It doesn't matter if it takes hours or days or months. You know how long it took Edison to figure out electricity? Or Marconi to get the right frequency for wireless communication? Or Will Hunting to solve that math problem? That varies depending on which question you're answering, but the point is, none of them stopped until they were done. Tallahassee saw that voyage through until ultimately, he jammed a Twinkee in his mouth and savored victory. Are any among us that unstoppable?
He survived being shanghaied by pirates, defeated a Spaniard in a duel, bested a giant in a contest of strength, and went in against a Sicilian when death was on the line. Not a problem. Knawed on by Rodents Of Unusual Size, sucked into quicksand, and burned by flame spurts in the fire swamp, the Man in Black pushed on without pause. Sure he was eventually unmasked as Buttercup's farm boy Westley, and tortured to mostly death by the evil Prince Humperdink, but even being mostly dead was more of a speedbump than a stopping point in his quest to save his true love. Give this man a wheelbarrow and a holocaust cloak and there's nothing he can't do. I suppose the moral of The Princess Bride is that love conquers all, but whether it's a vague emotion or just those chocolate coated pills Miracle Max prescribed while Westley was mostly dead that make it possible, the Man in Black is the definition of unstoppable.
He may say he's being blackmailed for hanging out naked in all-male bathhouses, he may act uncomfortable in the presence of bosoms, but don't you believe it. Mr. Green's an unstoppable force of heterosexuality and you can just bet that while Wadsworth is running around the house trying to figure out who shot Mr. Body, Green's stealing a look or two down Evette's dress. Mr. Green doesn't have to pay attention to all that crime solving, he knows he didn't do it as surely as he knows he's into chicks. No matter how many singing telegram girls get shot, or how many cops get bludgeoned, the Jehovah's Witness who drops by selling Watchtowers knows the truth: At the end of the day Mr. Green's going home to sleep with his wife. He knows it even if you don't and that keeps him going in the midst of the most insane murder mystery ever solved by a Butler. No matter how you solve it, no matter which ending you choose, even if everyone else left in the house did it, his heterosexual innocence remains the one unstoppable constant. Homosexuality was just a red herring. Lock em up and throw away the key, Mr. Green's innocent and he's going home to sleep with his wife.
Outside of disapproving mom glares and the evil eyes of reclusive gypsies, there has never been a look in history as unstoppable as Derek Zoolander's Magnum. Whispered about in the nether corners of boutique bathrooms for years, many doubted its mere existence. How foolish the naysayers were ultimately proven. Magnum's impromptu appearance during the unveiling of Mugatu's fall line still stands as the watershed moment in male modeling, not to mention a huge boon for United States-Indo-China relations. Many, knowing full well its power, still question why it wasn't used sooner. How many freak gasoline fight accidents could it have prevented? How many lives could it have saved during the Second Great War? We'll perhaps never know, but with a full-sized Derek Zoolander Center For Kids Who Can't Read And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too finally in place, now may be the perfect time to reflect on Magnum's unstoppable power. It put the boom boom into the world's heart, and sent all our souls sky high when it's lovin' started. Who knew a look could bring grown fashion designers to tears? Who knew a look could have the power to sell a clothing line inspired by homelessness? Derek Zoolander did. Visionary, virtuoso, saint, these are the words we all too often waste on nuns and politicians, but Earth to Cinema Blend readers, Derek Zoolander is better than those people. He's a model, modeling the model for greatness, and Magnum is the apex of that unstoppable model young models should be striving for. Duh.
While other men who love men wear their homosexuality on their sleeve, out in the open in wanton, frivolous displays; Gay Perry uses his like a weapon. Sure he's knee deep in pussy, but he liked the name so much he just couldn't get rid of it. Gay Perry's homosexuality is like steel, running through every part of his body, and into his pants next to his balls where, incidentally he keeps his favorite weapon. He calls it a faggot gun. Why? Because its only good for a couple shots, then you gotta drop it for something better. You asked, Chief. It works because even the most open-minded homophobe never checks another man's crotch and, when the average captor least expects it, Gay Perry will lure him to his cock and blow his head off. Perry's more than just a gay detective, I suspect it's being gay which makes him such a good detective. An unstoppable force of sarcastic crime solving and occasionally limp-wristed gestures, Gay Perry always gets his man. He'll never die, because he knows if he keeps breathing long enough his injuries will land him in the hospital where he'll wander the hallways staring at handsomely dressed orderlies. Gay Perry's gayness makes him stronger, smarter, and faster than you. Look up idiot in the dictionary and you know what you'll find? The definition of the word idiot which is what, compared to Gay Perry, you fucking are. He's gay and you're not. That makes him unstoppable. Sorry we said fuck so much. Get out. Vanish.
Have your own unstoppable ideas? Tell us about the most unstoppable things you've seen on film in the comments section below.
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