From Quentin Tarantino. From the worst costume designer in history. From Germany all the way to the dystopian future of late 1970s New York City.
After defeating Hitler and halting the German war machine, the Basterds return home for a well-earned rest. Even the blown-up ones, let's say. They got shot out a window or whatever. Shut up. But all is not peaceful stateside any longer as, with no fear of Nazis or Christoph Waltz, society has fallen into ruin. Ruin and 30 years in the future. So this one is harder to reconcile than the previous ones, I guess. Or maybe the Basterds are just 30 years older and have to come out of retirement. Yeah, let's do that.
So after living as heroes for 30 years, the Basterds join forces again to clean up the gang-ruled streets of New York on the night that Cyrus, leader of the Gramercy Riffs, is murdered. Mostly this is an excuse to watch the Bear Jew take the bat from the hands of a Baseball Fury and beat the ever-loving shit out of him.
As the Warriors attempt to escape the gangs that are out for their blood, the Basterds are on their trail as well, assuming they're the baddest gang in town. And determining the baddest gang in The Warriors is no easy task, since each one is more foolish-looking than the next. Except for the Riffs, because they're all black guys, so you know they're tough.
Things come to a head on Coney Island as the Warriors, the Basterds, and the evil Rogues meet up and we discover the true leader of the Rogues, the scarred and furious Hans Landa. Didn't see that shit coming, did you? Let's say Brad Pitt kills him this time, but not before he says, "Basterds, come out and pla-ay" in that cool accent.
It is a question as old as time, if you started measuring time sometime in the '80s. Who would win in a fight, Batman or Wolverine? Two of the most beloved antihero characters from different universes finally have their day as Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale go head to head in a movie that is not The Prestige.
The Dark Knight, master detective, martial artist, and billionaire, with an endless supply of gadgets at his disposal, versus the rogue mutant possessed of indestructible adamantium claws and skeleton, a mutant healing factor, and enhanced, bestial senses. Don't worry about the fact that they're both technically good guys, because in comics everyone hates everyone all the time.
On the trail of Omega Red, Wolverine makes his way to Gotham City, which looks like a bit of a depressing Manhattan but of course isn't. Omega Red and the Russian mob have some manner of mob-like plan afoot in Gotham, because mobsters do that kind of thing, in an effort to bring down Sal Maroni and take control of organized crime in the city. This absolutely sounds like a plausible storyline.
The presence of Omega Red draws the attention of Batman, who closes in to fight the mutant as he destroys one of Marconi's operations. Wolverine leaps into the fray and the fight becomes a three-way melee, with Batman kind of getting his ass handed to him since, let's be honest, everyone that Batman fights is generally a normal human and Omega Red is a superpowered being who can throw cars and shit. I mean, come on.
Batman returns to the Batcave, probably needs a few days' rest with Alfred bringing him soup, and then regroups, realizing he'll have to swallow his pride and seek out Wolverine if he wants to defeat Red and the Russians. In the grand tradition of most comic book matchups, they end up on the same team, because clearly, if they just fought each other, 50 percent of fans would be pissed off. Oh, and they win in the end. Yay!
There's something strange in this damn house. For like the fifth time. It's the exact same strange thing that happened all the previous times. It's so goddamn boring and repetitive. Does anyone care? Because you need to stop caring. Stop caring or these awful movies will never go away. Only one thing can save it. The Ghostbusters.
Whoever the hell the people from those other Paranormal Activity movies were are back, if they're alive, and some asshole keeps opening and closing doors on them. It's a real pain in the ass, as you can imagine. Of course, by this point, we're pretty sure it's the forces of evil, because that's what happens at the end of every movie, I think. How do they keep making sequels to this shitburger?
When the pots and pans rattling and doors letting in drafts becomes too much to bear, Peter Venkman and crew are called in to investigate. Venkman thinks it's a simple case of some fly-by-night slimer, but Egon and Ray aren't convinced -- this is clearly a free-floating full-body vacuous sack of douche apparition. But the truth is more than any of them realize as they begin their investigation and determine that it's a fourth century B.C. Mesopotamian demigod known as the Plot Contriver, once worshiped by cults of insipid and uninspired but greedy screenwriters and drunken teenagers.
It's the toughest battle yet for Peter and the guys, and maybe more than four men carrying unlicensed nuclear accelerators on their backs can handle. Except for it's guaranteed to end the exact same way the rest of the movies did, so they just set up a ghost trap in front of the camera in the bedroom and wait for the dumbass demon to run into it.
Cue awesome Ray Parker Jr. song.