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.
It’s the cinematic equivalent of shitting your guts out. But hey — maybe that sounds good to you?
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 the newest bestest movie of all time is thunk upon, as is the list what put it there.
Here’s to Evil and David Warner. Respectfully, may you rule in hell.
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.
The sexiest lobster you’ll ever eat. Or, at least, that seems like a safe bet.
Be careful–or you might go backwards too! NOOOOOO!