Twenty years ago, in the summer of ’96, teenaged me saw a new movie called Independence Day. It’s been a wedge between me and most of my generation ever since. Most people seem to remember it fondly, for some reason. I just remember how it kept getting my hopes up with genuinely exciting, interesting, original scenes, and then letting me down with the stupidest possible followthrough. The visually incredible destruction of Los Angeles ends by pissing on all physical logic just to spare the hero’s girlfriend, her cute kid, and their cute dog.