And HOW, dang, I can almost smell the unburned kerosene in his hair from the big JetClue that WHOOSHED right over his head.

The movie isn't about MMA superstars, it's about nobodies, folks who sit behind a desk and type mindless reports and bus dishes and do all the mind numbing work that emasculates the predator part of our brain. It's about what happens when they open up the window, stick their heads outside, and yell at the top of their lungs "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" Well, a little of that last bit might have leaked in from another movie, but you should get the idea. Hopefully.