Swartacus’s review published on Letterboxd:
What is your definition of it?
It may be the Mona Lisa, it may be a Shakespearean sonnet, it might be a velvet Elvis, or a podcast by a guy named Fred, or a Harley with pink flaming skulls on it ...hell it may be as simple as a framed photograph of a Hawaiian sunset taken with a disposable camera.
My definition of Art is Ray Liotta in a clown fro
and a smash cut of Adam Sandler being surprised on the toilet (played 3 different times in the same movie).
Nothing about this film or it’s awkward existence makes much sense, but then again neither do most things in the year 2020. It’s ok to laugh. It’s ok to cry. It’s ok to still pine for Julie Bowen.
I laughed more times during this movie than I did during Borat 2. Was I expecting that? No.
Do I accept it? I do.
“The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.”