Movies have all sorts of tricks to make you feel a certain way about what's going on up on the screen, from the soundtrack to convenient edits, regardless of what's actually happening. As longtime readers know, we at Cracked have dedicated ourselves to calling out the horrific little details the movie tried to smooth over ...
WALL-E could be considered the first post-apocalyptic cautionary tale about obesity in space made for children. Centuries of living on a gently orbiting star cruiser with robot servants has transformed the entire human race into squishy sacks of loose bones and listlessness.
Those suits had sleeves and shoes. They ate them.
The robots on the star cruiser Axiom do everything for the humans -- they clothe them, they feed them, they carry them from place to place on completely automated scooters, they clean up after them, and they maintain every aspect of the ship's operation. People don't even speak to each other except via computer screens projected directly in front of their faces, even if the person they're speaking to is sitting right beside them. That last sentence is less a biting commentary on the current trajectory of the human condition and more an agenda-free narration of a bunch of friends staring at their iPhones while sharing a booth at Applebee's.
But then WALL-E comes in, shakes everyone out of their glazed hedonism, and takes the reinvigorated humans back to Earth to slowly rebuild society.
The Dark Implication:
The robots on the Axiom have been taking care of the breeding as well.
Think about it -- the people on the Axiom are so large, they literally cannot move under their own power. They're essentially giant upended turtles.
Had WALL-E not come along, this man would have wobbled there until he died.
They're terrible at speaking with each other, which we see when John and Mary accidentally touch hands and are forced to hold what is likely the first personal conversation anyone on that ship has had in 700 years. Even if they could fumble their way into a romantic relationship, no human being on the Axiom is physically capable of actually having sex -- either they'd have a massive heart attack or their skeletons would collapse from the effort.
"At this point we're not sure if you even have external penises anymore."
So how has the species propagated for the past seven centuries? The only possible explanation is that the robots are either growing human babies in test tubes or artificially inseminating the women after forcibly extracting semen from the men by battering their prostates with that psychotic massage robot.
Its name is HAN-S. What do you think the job it does is?
Things are going to become really, really awkward when everyone down on Earth has to relearn how to make babies without sterilized incubators and a motorized throttlebot to help them.
In Tim Burton's retroactively maligned Batman, the Joker's master plan is to unleash deadly Smilex gas on the people of Gotham, because all he really wants is to commit as many simultaneous murders as possible (this theme is repeated with only minor changes in Batman Returns, wherein the Penguin's ultimate goal is to murder as many children as possible).
Batman, wanting to both protect his fellow citizens and exact righteous vengeance on the Joker for killing his parents, sends his remote-controlled Batmobile to grenade the ever-loving fuckboots out of Axis Chemicals, the Joker's base of operations and production site of all the Smilex gas.
"Told you we should have added 'Acts of Crazed Vigilante' coverage."
"Shut the fuck up, Bob."
Batman didn't manage to kill the Joker or stop the release of the gas, but at least he destroyed the chemical plant and cut off distribution of the tainted cosmetics the Joker was randomly smuggling onto store shelves like a murdery Easter egg hunt nobody else knew they were playing.
The Dark Implication:
Batman blew up a massive chemical plant loaded with poisonous gas and material waste.
"Suck my dick, EPA."
The best thing that could possibly happen in that scenario is that every detonated vat of supervillain-creating goo melts the wreckage of Axis Chemicals into a radioactive sinkhole that poisons the Gotham River for thousands of years. That whole area would be instantly transformed into the Indian burial ground from Pet Sematary, and it would probably result in at least one or two more mutated foes for Batman to deal with. The worst thing that could possibly happen is that the Joker's entire stockpile of Smilex gas gets immediately released into the air and carried away on the wind into the city proper like the baby spiders at the end of Charlotte's Web, making leering corpses out of thousands of people.
Those are literally the only two outcomes that could result from blowing up Axis Chemicals, and both of them effectively make Batman a war criminal. The Pentagon would be lobbing missiles at Wayne Manor the next morning. Honestly, the ending of The Dark Knight Rises would've made way more sense in this situation.
"Come away with me, Catwoman, and leave this life of crime behind you.
But we have to leave, like, tonight. Right now, if possible."
In the second installment of the Harry Potter and the Unscrupulous Educators series, Harry returns for another year at Hogwarts to do battle with a giant snake and the Stygian juggernaut that is Kenneth Branagh's ego.
"For casting Keanu in Shakespeare alone, you've earned this."
At the end of the movie, Harry leaves Dumbledore's office after an invigorating back-slapping session to chase down Lucius Malfoy, the dickish father of the dickish Draco Malfoy, who was apparently there for a PTA meeting. Lucius had spent the film insulting Harry and his friends and in general playing the part of the jerk father of the school bully. Harry figures he'll get a little bit of petty revenge and tricks Lucius into giving his long-suffering house elf, Dobby, his freedom.
Lucius, realizing he has lost his personal slave, is thrown into an unsettlingly hissing rage. He appears to try to cast some kind of spell at Harry, but Dobby -- now free from the shackles of oppression -- intervenes in Harry's defense and sends Lucius flying down the hall like Albino Superman. And it's a good thing, too, because if Dobby hadn't intervened, Lucius' spell surely would have given Harry a good spanking, or temporarily turned him into a mollusk or something. Right?
The Dark Implication:
Nope. Lucius Malfoy totally tried to murder Harry right there in Hogwarts.
If you rewatch the scene in question, you'll notice that the first word out of Lucius' mouth after he whips out his wizard stick and begins strutting purposefully down the hallway like a contestant on RuPaul's Drag Race is "Avada." Fans of the series will recognize this as the first half of "Avada Kedavra," better known as the Killing Curse, or the green bolt of lightning that magically transforms Robert Pattinson into a sloped-foreheaded corpse in part four.
"But Cracked! We find out that Lucius is truly evil later! How is that a surprise!" Well, right -- we find out later. As in, a couple of years later. Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy straight-up tried to kill Harry right outside Dumbledore's office, and nobody said a goddamn thing about it. Harry doesn't file charges, Dobby doesn't offer to call the Magical Police, and Dumbledore doesn't even open his fucking door to see what all the vengeful shouting and explosions were about.
"I'm way too high to deal with this shit right now."
This isn't the fifth or sixth movie, where everyone is stumbling around like Vietnam veterans in jaded angst over their murdered comrades. This is part two, back when Harry Potter was still a whimsical children's story about enchanted adventure. Dumbledore shouldn't be coldly resigned to the inevitable shroud of death when he's supposed to be responsible for the well-being of a bunch of elementary school students.