Summary
I’m an unashamedBorderlandsfan. I love the annoying little yellow robot who won’t shut up, throwing my gun at enemies instead of reloading tickles something in my brain, and Handsome Jack still gets a chuckle out of me to this day.
I vividly remember the rush of the sequel’s release, when one look at my friend’s list at any given moment showed everyone and anyone playing it, regardless of whether they were into shooters. It was anevent,and while the memes and references were a bit outdated even at launch, I loved its world and the cel-shaded characters that went against the gritty mud-brown grain of its era.
Even now, I regularly revisit the first two Borderlands and lose myself in Pandora, so when the movie came out and was panned by every critic under the sun, I decided to dip my toes back into the games instead. I only lasted five minutes (a Borderlands game would say “that’s what she said” right about now).
Gearbox CEO Randy Pitchford has been glued to his phone since the movie was released,defending it from every single criticismand blocking reviewers while insisting that it’s really, honest to god good—I promise! It’s embarrassing. Scrolling through his feed made me physically cringe. Art is subjective, but when your moviedebuts at zero percent on Rotten TomatoesandUwe Boll is laughing at you, maybe it’s time to throw in the towel.
When I started up Borderlands 2 again—playing Zero, because even in Pandora,I can’t avoid the stealth archer—all I could picture was Pitchford arguing with randoms on the internet over a video game movie that had been flying red flags long before critics ever got their hands on it. Claptrap woke me up from the rubble to begin my gun-touting adventure and all I could think of was how the movie tries to paint him as genuinely funny. Was that always the intent? I assumed we were laughingathim, notwithhim, but now I’m having doubts as I enter his man cave covered in pinup Claptrap posters.
I picked up my first of many guns and was sent to kill some Bullymong in the snowy wilds, while not-Cortana gave me some vague lore, but I blocked her out as I stared down the barrel of one of the most degrading dumpster fires we’ve seen in a long, long time.
Video game adaptations are finally earning their keep with prestige dramas likeThe Last of Usand beloved expansions of our favourite worlds a laFallout, and then there’s Borderlands. The stoic deadpan soldier Roland played by bumbling one-note comedian Kevin Hart, Claptrap losing all of their identity with another Jack Black being Jack Black performance, and a PG-13 rating for a comically over-the-top violent video game, wrapped up neatly in an Eli Roth bow. I get why Craig Mazin was so desperate to get his name stripped from the credits.
Liking Borderlands was already a bit embarrassing. The jokes are usually just outdated pop culture references, like pointing at a toilet and yelling ‘Skibidi!’ six years after everyone’s moved on, or people being obnoxiously loud. But the looter shooter loop mixed with Handsome Jack’s charismatic performance helped it stand out beyond the messy writing.
Now, going back to the games has all the baggage of the movie piled on top, so maybe my yearly visits to Pandora are finally at their end. I’ll just go playDoominstead. At least John Romero isn’t arguing with every Major Tom, Mobley Dick, and HON3Y-P0T about the awful 2005 movie starring The Rock.
