Before Avatar: Great Movie Moments In Blue

I've never been big on the color blue. That's not to say I hate the oasis primary; it's had its moments, Captain Planet, the New York Rangers' road jerseys, water, to cite a few, but it lacks the pizzazz of orange, the chutzpah of green, the depth and character of a rich burgundy. For some reason, we've agreed as a society to idealize it as the picture of budding manliness, but I don't remember voting for this aqua nonsense. Think about how goofy blue is. Seriously. It almost inherently comes attached to a shit-eating grin. But now James Cameron has chosen to render his aliens blue, and it's going to take a lot more than a thousand Smurfing eye rolls to change his mind.

This article is my attempt to embrace the blue, find some redemption in its robin's egg ridiculousness. It's my defense of Avatar, a five hundred million dollar obstreperous juggernaut of a film, made by the same dude who brought us Titanic and The Terminator. I can't just write it off solely on account of ill-conceived hue choices. So, let's just roll with it; let's stop questioning the bluey bodaciousness of it all. It's time to embrace the Navy, throw up a salute to the skull and bones over at Yale and give James Cameron the benefit of the doubt. Here's the nine greatest filmed moments in the history of blue.

Jeff Daniels Suits Up In Dumb & Dumber

Outside of Foster's misunderstanding of the word biker in Super Troopers and Vin's leather jacket in My Cousin Vinny, perhaps no one in recent cinematic memory has shown up more inappropriately dressed to a semi-formal engagement than poor hapless Harry Dunne. It's like he legitimately went suit shopping and concluded the only thing better than a baby blue suit would be blue-on-blue with a blue top hat. Somewhere, Tim Gunn just seized thinking about this ludicrous accessorizing. Part cock-sure, part idiocy, it takes a serious pair of stones to make the blue suit sing, and Harry not only convinced himself he looked good, he parlayed the outlandish getup into a faux-date. So, take off that extra pair of gloves and join me in a salute---to the snazziest dresser of them all, Jeff Daniels. May God, and Seabass, have mercy on that complete fucking idiot.

Billy Madison Made A Blue Duck

I know what you're thinking. But Mack… ducks are multi-colored aquatic creatures. You can't just go around coloring ducks blue for the hell of it. That's a slap in the face to God, to the natural order of things, to Mr. Crayola himself. Well, sir, I must respectfully disagree--at least in this instance. Sure, it would be inappropriate for a learned man of sophisticated taste to go around haphazardly scribbling darkened periwinkle all over nature's most underrated meat, but Miss Lippy's first grade class is merely preparation for the real world. Sometimes preparing for the real world means inhabiting your own absurd dream world of dodge ball dominance and blue duck deliciousness. Uncle Buck once said, I don't want to know a (first grader) who takes their academic career seriously. He would have approved of this blue duck. And he's never wrong. Therefore, by the transitive property of obese, middle-aged math, this blue duck must be spot on. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go drop a few indigo markers into my roasted duckling sauce.

Nightcrawler Turns The White House Blue In X2

Nightcrawler’s more than just another azure-skinned Hollywood creation. Long before Barack Obama, he showed up at the White House to give the place a little color, literally. Teleporting with reckless abandon through the first two minutes of X2, a painted-up Alan Cumming teleports wildly through the President’s hallowed halls, the only sign of his presence a series of ever spreading clouds of viscous, indigo smoke billowing through the corridors and the echoing BAMF! of his circuslike appearances and disappearances. Before long he takes his fight to the white man in the Oval office, trailing ink blue powder in his wake as he applies his blue foot to the buzz cut heads of the President’s security guards, whirling and leaping a mad blue dervish kicking the ever loving ass of anyone who’s in his way and without the properly marine-tinted skin tones. And you thought electing Obama would bring change. What we really need is a goddamn blue circus freak in a trench coat.

Blue Is My Boy In Old School

Some may see the death of Joseph Blue Pulaski as a cautionary tale, a prime example of why men in their eighties shouldn't gallivant about like drunken super seniors, but to cast such a judgment upon one of the Greatest Generation's finest would be to ignore why so many scared sons bravely charged into almost certain death on the beaches of Normandy. Like Blue, those men fought for a man's right to choose his own path, a stable, honest white picket fence encasing a beautiful wife and a slew of babies, sure, but also, eighteen holes on Sunday, a cold beer with the fellas at work, and a topless wrestling match in a pool of KY Jelly. World War II was about choices, and if a man, a goddamn Saint like Blue Pulaski, asks you to move out of the way and ring the fucking bell, you do it. He's earned the right to go out in a blaze of barely-legal pussy.

Penis Power In Watchmen

Quick. Here's an easy way to discern whether your significant other is a highly-evolved potential spouse or a complete fucking moron. Rent Watchmen. If she giggles because you can see his penis during the scene where he's isolated and alone on Mars, best break it off now and find someone with at least a hint of deep-seeded maturity. Because, you see, Dr. Manhattan's penis is indicative of so much more. He's a superhero, this colossal machine capable of bending and breaking particles, slowly severing ties with a humanity he no longer understands. It's a beautiful, haunting moment full of complicated, philosophical questions and yes, giant azure penis. Only one of those things is important. If the guy behind 300 can figure out which one matters, your immature idiot of a boyfriend should too. Shame on him if he can't.

Herman Munster In Blueface For Munster, Go Home!

Most people seem to think Herman Munster had green skin, probably because he's overtly based off Frankenstein, whose skin is, of course, green. This is a fallacy. Herman Munster is actually blue, and since The Munster's was my favorite Nick At Nite re-run growing up, that hot fact obviously merits inclusion inside this blue-splosion of an essay because I wrote the fucking thing, which means whatever the hell I say goes. I guess I'm like Nixon in that way. If the President does it, it's not illegal because he's the President and Presidents are above the law. If I do it, it's the bee's knees because I'm the author and authors can just type things in a word document and it makes them worthy of consumption. That's the theory behind Creed Thoughts at least. Where was I? Oh yeah, Herman Munster's face is blue. Tell your friends. And pray for a made-for-TV Avatar crossover where Grandpa hooks up with Sigourney Weaver. Best Lifetime Original ever. Take that, newly gay Meredith Baxter.

The Blues Brothers, All Of It

Instead of writing a paragraph about how hysterical The Blues Brothers is, I'm just going to give you a detailed outline of the plot. Ready? Two ex-con Blues musicians, coincidentally named Jake and Elwood Blues, are on a mission from God to rapidly earn five thousand dollars in order to save an orphanage run by a Nun who hates swearing. They travel all across greater Chicago in a used police car, reuniting their old band, chain smoking and pissing off the Illinois Nazi Party. The entire police force, led by an Orange Whip-loving John Candy, put out an all points bulletin to stop them, but they disappear into the night like suited Waldo's, conspicuously protected by a series of impromptu music performances by Cab Calloway, Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin. Over thirty cars are destroyed, Princess Leia wields several high-powered grenades and Elwood somehow manages to shatter every piece of glass in an entire mall. Is there anyway in hell a studio would fund this obnoxious pitch today? I miss John Belushi.

Jason Segel's Balls In Forgetting Sarah Marshall

Peter Bretter refused a blowjob, mid-blowjob, which, according to Forgetting Sarah Marshall, makes him like Ghandi, only better because he likes puppets, and even though this sentence has way too many commas, there's quite a bit of truth to it all, maybe. The following statement is a fact: getting a blowjob is awesome. Also, a fact: turning down a blowjob is a major downer on par with a low-level natural disaster or getting a creative answer vetoed in Scattergories. Peter turned down a blowjob from his hot ex-girlfriend mostly because he didn't want to disappoint Jackie from That 70s Show. This made his balls blue. And I know this because I saw his white-colored gonads and a sad look on his face. As a seasoned interpreter of human emotion, I thus reasoned his balls were blue. That bartender who names fish said they were blue too. I trust his judgment. I probably would have done things a little differently, but Peter knows more about the history of Dracula than me, which makes him more important, at least to the Count from Sesame Street, who was friends with Cookie Monster, who was blue. And loved cookies. You see, it all comes full circle if you aimlessly talk long enough.

Red Versus Blue In Tron

Normally blue is the color of waterfalls and unfulfilled sexual fantasies but in Tron the good guys have traded in their white hats for Aqua Velva neon. You know who to root for by their black light glow and you know who needs killing because he's lit up like an Amsterdam brothel. Flynn shows up and hangs out with a bunch of other blue dudes who, eventually plot the doom of the reds. Their plan mostly seems to involve shoving a bright blue Frisbee up the top bad guy's ass, and when Tron finally pulls said Frisbee insertion off, the red melts away in a wash of blue lines and blue people and, just because they're good guys and into diversity, they let a little yellow sneak in there too. But let's face it, by the time the movie's over the blues are in charge and the yellows ain't getting any tail.

Mack Rawden
Editor In Chief

Enthusiastic about Clue, case-of-the-week mysteries, a great wrestling promo and cookies at Disney World. Less enthusiastic about the pricing structure of cable, loud noises and Tuesdays.