“Morbius” review: the peak of cinema (and my life)

I sit calmly in the movie theater seat and take a deep breath. The buttery fresh smell of popcorn wafts through the air as I meditate, trying to mentally steel myself for what lies ahead. My hands start to shake and sweat as I furiously type this review in between screenings, and my knuckles turn deathly white as I grip the armrest beside me in between sobs. Tears still stream down my face, the countless emotions I feel refusing to hide themselves.

It’s time. It’s finally time. After months and months of hanging upside down in my room in a vampire-bat-like coma preparing for the greatest event of my sad, insignificant life, “Morbius” has finally arrived in theaters. 

It has been a long and hard road for the trillions of Morbius fans across the globe. Delay after delay hammered our spirits, causing us to doubt whether the film would truly be the transcendent masterpiece that we all expected. But at last. At long last we can disprove the roughly 40 clinically insane people on Twitter who thought the movie would somehow, by some stroke of malign and twisted intent, turn out less than immaculately.

As a lifelong Morbius fan, I have watched every trailer and interview on a constant loop for months before release in order to satiate my endless love for the character. While I still have yet to read any of his comics (do they even make those anymore?), I have never once wavered in my undying love and passion for the character. 

In fact, Morbius means so much to me that he inspired me to work past my fears and finally take the plunge to get my teeth sharpened into fangs like his, a decision that resulted in my popularity skyrocketing once everyone discovered that the rest of the world was actually all made up of secret Morbius fans like themselves. 

And now that poverty, famine and every other significant world issue has been bridged through a collective love of Jared Leto, there is nothing for us all to do but sit and bask in the deep brilliance that awaits us in theaters.

Where can I possibly begin with such a deep, complex and emotionally moving piece of art? Ah, yes, I know exactly where.

Abs. Steamy, sweaty, smoky, char-broiled vampire abs. There. Is there really any question anymore of whether this movie was worth the wait? 

This does, sadly, tie into my one complaint with the movie: the multiple loud swoons and other … interesting reactions heard across the theater made it slightly harder to enjoy these otherwise ab-solutely fantastic scenes. However, it’s hard to complain when I can see so many fellow Morbius appreciators experiencing the euphoria we have been lacking for so long.

While it took me until the sixth rewatch to fully grasp the complexities of the story, the plot of “Morbius” delivers a thoroughly brilliant and thought-provoking commentary on deeply complex moral issues (or so I would assume). 

Though no mere mortal could ever hope to comprehend everything contained in the filmmakers’ visions, I have the utmost confidence and belief that if our greatest scientists and literary thinkers simply pool their talents, they may just discover the secret meaning to life hidden deep within the movie’s plot. That is just my humble opinion though, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a slight understatement on my part.

The actors (this doesn’t include the abs; they count as separate entities in my mind) are clearly bringing their all to this stunning visual blockbuster, and the assumption that any one of them was simply there to cash a paycheck is just absurd. 

I, however, wouldn’t exactly blame them for this anyway if I was about to rake in the well-earned quadrillions that “Morbius” doubtlessly already has.

Here I sit, dehydrated from all of the crying that I have been doing for the past hours as my empty stomach utters a primal growl. Yet I cannot bring myself to leave my seat. I don’t need food or water. I only need to suck in the juicy, tender contents of this movie like a neck-full of sweet, delicious blood.

I cannot find the will to stand, nor can I muster the courage to complain about the small child who sat on my lap something like three screenings ago.

I see him point and smile at the vampiric wonder unfolding before his small, bright eyes and for the first time, I feel complete. His youthful innocence contrasted with the visual splendor on screen moves me to tears, though I find I have none left. Instead, I smile. I smile, and as I finally nod off to sleep from the awe, exhaustion and shock, I ponder whether the meaning of life was vampire abs all along. 

P.S.: I have made the decision to post this review on April 2, the day after the movie’s release, because it would trouble me deeply if anyone misinterpreted my words for simplistic tomfoolery or idiocy on April Fool’s Day (soon to be renamed Morbius Day I’m sure). Please, people, have some respect.