The Broken Circle Breakdown Is Broke, All Right
Woe to thee who dares view this broken down turd of a movie.
Woe to thee who dares view this broken down turd of a movie.
I don’t give a rat’s ass if you are the Meryl Streep of birthday party performers. I’m younger, cuter, and hungrier. Plus, my balloon animals are insane and they will cut you.
Cheap Thrills is a depraved, cocaine-covered punch in the nose, except you’re punching yourself—as hard as you can—for money.
Guess what happens.
It feels like only yesterday that Silver Streak opened. Or so. The first pairing of Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor, to be followed by beloved classics like Stir Crazy, See No Evil, Hear No Evil, and the unforgettable Another You. Which I completely forgot about. I even forgot to see it.
“I say, if I need to cut (off) my arms in order to make that picture, I will cut (off) my arms. I was even ready to die doing that.”
People get huffy so easily in this modern age.
There is no scarier place on earth than a hospital. Disease festers on every surface. The halls echo with screams of the dying. Depraved, sleep-deprived medical practitioners fornicate in ORs.
The new Romanian film, Child’s Pose, asks you a very rude question
That is the magic of Wes Anderson’s film. He makes you nostalgic for something that never was.
In the late ‘50s, a Belgian invented smurfs. Things have only gotten stranger over there ever since.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is not set in Hungary. It’s set in the imaginary European Republic of Zubrowka. More exactly, it’s set in the little dollhouse of Wes Anderson’s head.
In which the thrill of finding a new subatomic particle is made manifest. It’s Pi day, folks. Let’s talk about physics. And then maybe eat some pie.
I don’t want to freak you out, but giant, dangerous, super-powered rabbits are everywhere.