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If you are a citizen of the Americas -- or of any of the God-fearing, wrestling-worshipping nations of the world -- you know The Rock. You have seen The Rock. And you have heard the various catchphrases of The Rock, likely from the mouth of a boy in the fifth grade about to piledrive his little brother. You have, in short, smelled what The Rock is cooking.
But what is The Rock? As one friend of ours might say, he's like Hulk Hogan fully-loaded. Hulk Hogan with power windows and air and a sun roof. This might sound like good news for The Rock -- who doesn't want a sun roof? -- but it is not good news for The Rock. It is, in fact, bad news for The Rock.
Because it means that, in a few short years or so, The Rock will be cast out -- or, rather, cast aside. The Rock will, like every other staggeringly famous pro wrestler before him, become a punchline, or the governor of Minnesota, or both.
Yes, he is being primed as the Next Great Action Hero, a campaign that officially kicked off this past weekend with the opening of The Mummy Returns, in which he has a peripheral role, and which will start rolling in earnest with the release, in several months, of the Mummy spin-off and Rock-starring The Scorpion King. The Hollywood press corps would have us believe that there is a roughly six-foot-five, 250-pound hole in the action hero genre, left by Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger, that is about to be filled by Dwayne Johnson, a.k.a. The Rock. To which we reply: we can only hope.
Because we want good things for The Rock. We don't want The Rock to end up like Hulk Hogan, prancing around in a Speedo and thigh boots in his golden years, still cupping his hand to his ear and straining to hear the cheers at an age when he could, legitimately, be starring in commercials for mutual funds and early retirement. And, despite the rolling momentum of The Rock, we don't think it's outlandish to suggest that he might meet the same fate. After all, the Hulkster was once primed to be the next great action hero, before he was sunk by such stinkers as Suburban Commando and Mr. Nanny. Rowdy Roddy Piper was also once primed to be the next great action hero until similarly torpedoed by They Live and Love Boat: The Valentine Voyage. Even Jesse Ventura had a kick at this particular can, co-starring with Arnold in Predator before dedicating himself full-time to his childhood dream of becoming America's first simultaneous sitting governor/really bad football announcer.
Why does The Rock deserve a better fate? Well, because, while we don't much like wrasslin', we do like The Rock. His catchphrases are catchy. His silky, booming voice is both silky and booming. He cocks his eyebrow in an amusing fashion. He is theatrical and kind to children. Whereas Hulk Hogan offered a stringy blonde mullet and biker-gang, Fu Manchu moustache, The Rock is actually handsome in a Samoan Elvis kind of way.
And, let's face it, the action genre is in desperate need of resuscitation, lest we be forced to endure another reasonable-facsimile-of-an-action-film starring the elvin splitster Jean-Claude Van Damme or the begirdled and mumbling Steven Seagal. And Stallone's transition to the "aging mentor" role and Schwarzenegger's recent flameout in a giant ball of adultery have only served to emphasize how long it's been since either of them delivered a worthwhile blockbuster, and how unlikely it is that either of them ever will again. (Though, thanks to the tabloids, it's at least more likely in Schwarzenegger's case than, say, his entering politics is. Thanks, tabloids!) With George W. Bush reviving Reagan Lite in the White House, it seems only fitting that the action genre, most robust in the Gipper-defined eighties, should explode anew. America, like Bonnie Tyler, needs a hero, and The Rock looks like the last, best hope we've got.
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