Pokémon Detective Pikachu
Detective Pikachu is a mystery, but not really. I mean, not in the sense that anyone put the fucking effort to come up with an engaging or clever puzzle.
The World's Most Important Fake Critic
Detective Pikachu is a mystery, but not really. I mean, not in the sense that anyone put the fucking effort to come up with an engaging or clever puzzle.
If you’re thinking about writing a story set in a derelict amusement park: don’t. In fact, one way not to be a shitty hack is to avoid any idea that’s already been done by both R. L. Stine and Scooby Doo. But, if you just can’t resist the allure of the mossy, spooky vacant rollercoaster,…
Black Panther is really fucking boring and self-serious. I haven’t heard this many Goddamn self-righteous speeches since the City Council meeting where they voted to close the last video store in town that carried pornos.
I worried I’d struggle understanding the characters, their histories and motivations. “Wait, why did that fat guy just bite her?” and “Who is Choochie and why did the girl with the Juggalo tattoo say she wanted to kill him?”
Baby Driver is a nerdy genre movie. It’s sort of like a know-it-all guy named Dexter wearing Arthur Fonzarelli’s leather jacket to trivia night at the pub. It looks cool at first, but the coolness doesn’t hold up to inspection. It was borrowed and tacked on. Underneath it, there’s still Dexter, and he’s still a dork.
It is the comic book equivalent of 24 hours of porn. One big fight is great. Two is okay. But by the 40th time some dude in armor shoots lasers out of his hands, the joy is long gone and you’re just praying the whole fucking thing will end.
It took five minutes for me to realize A Simple Favor isn’t meant for me. I’m sure it has its purpose, as does the Chilton repair manual for a 1988 Geo Metro. But I have no fucking clue how to use either. No matter how many times I’ve dreamed of owning a Metro, I could…
The Art of Self-Defense is a fart of a movie. The thing about farts, though, is people don’t mind their own. In fact, director Stearns is probably pretty fucking proud of this one.
The plot is sort of like a truck full of tube socks. Nobody gives a shit whether it makes it to the destination except the people selling them.
American Made is a Tom Cruise movie. He flies planes, gets shot at, humps a hot wife, and shows us more teeth than a frightened baboon.