Blinded by the light – Bend it like Springsteen.

I saw Blinded by the light on the 10th of August 2019.

It is widely accepted that there are seven wonders of the world, many times people overlook the obvious eighth wonder which is the fact that at the time of me writing this, Blinded by the light is currently sitting on 88% on Rotten Tomatoes.

There were times during this film where I would have actually accepted being blinded so that I wouldn’t have had to subject my eyes to the over the top forced “feel good” nature of this film.

I witnessed this disaster over a month ago, and the sight of Rob Brydon singing directly into the lens of the camera still haunts me to this day. Uncle Bryn?! If this is anything like what took place on that camping trip then I’d rather not know.

The story of Blinded by the light follows Javed, a Pakistani teenager who is forced to deal with the racial and economic struggles that surround him and his family living in Luton in 1987, while simultaneously the audience is forced to deal with Javed and his band of obnoxious amigos, who collectively possess all of the personality of a deflated beach ball at a Bruce Springsteen concert, and the fact that they continuously insist on breaking into a furious rampage of song and dance very rarely breaking eye contact with the camera.

It’s hard to say who had it worse.

One of Bruce Springsteen’s biggest hits and a song that features prominently during this ordeal is “Born to run”. I had heard this song a dozen times prior to seeing Blinded by the light and it had never truly resonated with me because I had never really felt like there were something in my life I needed to chase after… That was until about 12 minutes into this trial when I felt the need to chase after my new dream of watching a half decent film that night.

I feel as if I left the cinema as a victim for I did not consent to what had taken place over to last two hours. The exaggerated and poorly directed musical scenes left me with a taste in my mouth similar to that of literally having Bruce Springsteen shoved down my throat. The worst offender of this being a diner scene containing needless race-baiting to pander to a suggestive audience topped off with a horrendous rendition of ‘Badlands’ which had me wondering how many times I would have to rail my head into the seat in front of me before it would have left me unconscious.

Judging by the love this film seems to have garnered online, it would appear this delusional excuse for entertainment appeals mainly to two groups of people, hardcore Bruce Springsteen fans looking for a visual aid to the music they hold so dear and hardcore masochists who enjoy inflicting pain on themselves in bizarre and often humiliating ways.

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