Please pass the butter. No need to unwrap it first.
Death did the show in, leaving it languishing in the misty-mists of misty-pre-internet-nowhere.
In which we get closer to answers and insights regarding one of the best—and least discussed—directors.
Spoiler alert: she dies.
“I’m getting too old for this shit.”
The next time I say, “Let’s go someplace like Bolivia,” let’s go someplace like Bolivia.
What does it mean if the moon is stronger than you and what does it mean if you’re stronger than the moon? Shall we stay another night and find out?
There is an itch to scratch, one that’s sunk deep in the center of your back, as if you’d had a pair of identical siblings your entire life and never knew it until RIGHT NOW.
Just stop, people.
Just pretend it’s a Star Wars movie and that the two leads are supposed to be as charismatic as canned salmon.
They had the skill. They had the cred and the time and resources and, yet, what they have produced is so pube-straightingly, joint-invertingly, ghastly terrible you will not stop removing your eyes to check if they’re still working properly from the time it starts to its thankful finish.
Three Billboards is more of a Twin Peaks ruse; a rusty nail upon which to hang an assortment of meaty, twisted, and — yes — angry characters.
What? You’re sick of spending so long searching through streaming service catalogs that by the time you find something you don’t-even-really-want-to-watch you no longer have time to watch it? Join the […]
You all wrote off The Lone Ranger as big-budget Hollywood tripe but you were excessively incorrect. Are you equally mistaken to dismiss Verbinski’s latest, A Cure for Wellness?