“I saved him, Bev. He was always nice to me.”
A scarier, more intimate, and frankly more accomplished endeavor than the bloated, overwrought Hill House. The bloodlust of organized religion can be combatted, but never eradicated.
“Book V: Gospels”
“Book VI: Act of the Apostles”
“Book VII: Revelation”
“Book IV: Lamentations”
“Book III: Proverbs”
“Book II: Psalms”
“Book I: Genesis”
Little more than an excuse for Stuckmann to fellate his idols and declare his alienation with the studio system. Not a single joke lands, neither in dialogue nor in the props that beg for attention in the cluttered background. Both leads are disposable, predictably peppy rom-com airheads.
Immediately, we realize we’re watching a solid content creator beg for validation. One of his first contributions to the medium he’s made a living criticizing is a plainly desperate failure.
A fucking nightmare akin to a curbstomping. Every image and background reeks of desperation, designed to trick us into believing we’re witnessing something that’s both groundbreaking and authentic to the beauty of nature’s textures. Emotion of any kind is absent, and the distinctions from the first film are wholly insignificant. This is nothing but tasteless mimicry for two torturous hours.
Cower in disbelief as your fellow moviegoers holler and belly laugh at the same jokes that charmed them in 1994.…