There is no escaping some kinds of crazy.
We dare to go where no sane human has gone before, and return with surprising results.
This is a film in which god takes the form of a small, petulant British boy with a slight lisp.
The first plague is tornadoes. The second is digital hail. The third is running. Fourth is exploding seagulls and fifth is xenomorphs.
In which three versions of the same history shed light on the story-tellers behind them.
And I mean that in the worst way possible.