In which everything you always wanted to know about Deckard is answered once and for all and forerever. So there.
In the future, all scientists will be stupid.
Nothing ever happens on Mars, even if you’re Matt Damon.
Man abondoned on Mars. Grows potatoes. Is rescued. The end.
This is a film in which god takes the form of a small, petulant British boy with a slight lisp.
A few flicks to flee from or look forward to.
It took me awhile, but I’ve now seen Legend. Will I ever unsee it?
The first plague is tornadoes. The second is digital hail. The third is running. Fourth is exploding seagulls and fifth is xenomorphs.
A true tale of extra-terrestrial abduction, in which a great movie was made slightly less great by forces of pure evil.
Women, right? Can’t live with ’em—so they say—unless you’re lucky, or you are one, or you live with, I dunno, a mother who loves you or something. You do have […]