Few things in this world are as manly as explosions. Arm wrestling, chest hair and straight shaving with cold water are all pretty butch, but for raw testosterone you almost have to turn to gratuitous explosions.
So then what do you do when explosions are used to make pieces of art? Publicly you decry it as being a weak, sissified purpose for the good lord’s greatest gift to mankind. Privately, you marvel at it’s majesty.
I’ll be honest — I didn’t want to like this. Alas, I’ve watched it three times now.