At 5 in the morning. There was some sort of battle happening, and it was happening in my face, since we’ve been sleeping on the main floor to ward off the heat of summer, and since…Netflix.

I don’t know who was fighting who or why, but in my hazy, wee-hour confusion, both the throbbing bag-piped score and the guttural screams of shirtless men were personified (note, not the men themselves, who are actual persons) and pummeling each other for supremacy. Their repeated collision felt like a nervous breakdown and kinda reminded me of this*, for some reason.

For what felt like at least three hours, I was spun in a nightmarish cycle of waking, jumping, and volume reducing.  It felt like the loudest, most obnoxious sequence I’d ever witnessed. I tossed and turned while my patience and well-being were pelted with tomahawks. “WHAT IS THAT MUSIC??!!”, I groggily bitched. “Turn it up, I can’t hear the talking,” Edgar said very matter-of-factly.

There was no talking. But there was running (and screaming, and music). I sought refuge in another room upstairs, with my roll-out mattress and a thin sheet over my ears, while the song bludgeoned my brain for at least another half-hour. Though even through my fury, I could appreciate the hilarity of the situation. Probably only cuz I didn’t have to work in the morning.

Mohican

Badass. But also kinda hilar.

Of course, when I awoke, I couldn’t even hum the tune. How ironically disappointing. So I set out to find it, randomly scrolling (Netflix and all), to approximately 3/4 of the way through the film and coincidentally happening upon the most dead-on impression of Ben Stiller doing an impression of Daniel Day Lewis I could have ever hoped for.

I also found the song, which started (no joke) about 30 seconds later and goes by the name The Gael. Apparently, back in the day, it was kinda a big deal. And in cheerful (but not too cheerful) daylight, at a proper volume, with requisite emotional preparation (but still really, no context), I could appreciate its dramatic beauty and (presumed) appropriateness for the film’s bloody (presumed) climax. Still, that shit was BANANAS.

And still, after twenty years, I don’t actually know what this movie is about. Nor do I really feel the need to.

*link to come.