The finale nobody needed, delivered as nobody wanted
Indy and the aliens, once infuriating, now merely sigh-inducing.
We complained about Temple of Doom. This is the result. I hope we’ve learned our lesson.
Once hated, now–kinda loved! It’s the demonic cartoon you never knew you wanted.
Still good? Still good.
The passionate story of the fatcat company destined to become still fatter, or: A capitalist love story between a number of rich men and a shoe.
In which we throw two documentaries into a fiery, erupting volcano that we may watch them fight it out.
In which the newest bestest movie of all time is thunk upon, as is the list what put it there.
In which a vanished film is applauded for having vanished.
Come on everybody! Let’s all get our new homegrown internal organs tattooed!
Wake us when the sequel’s over.
Be careful–or you might go backwards too! NOOOOOO!
Wherein it is written, on whatever it is they write it on in the web-o-sphere, that one could do worse than to watch the newest Zappa documentary.
I have seen the future, and it is the past.