Thor: Love and Thunder

Marvel has apparently stopped reading the Thor scripts before handing them over to Taika Waititi to direct; producer Kevin Feige must just chuckle and greenlight the project before going off to Maui, confident that there will be a whole new pile of money waiting for him on his desk when he gets back from vacation.

The Thor movies have always been a bit looser than some of the other Marvel films. This one goes even sillier and takes the legend of the mighty God Thor and surrounds him with ridiculous characters, screaming goats, and Matt Damon in a chin length bob that makes him look like Severus Snape. I am 100% on board with this approach.

The last Marvel movie I saw was Dr. Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, and it felt like the studio had cranked it out because someone looked at the calendar and realized it was almost Memorial Day and they needed a movie in the theaters, stat. It was a lot of jumping into different time lines and frantic battle scenes that had little humanity and even less humor. I like my superheroes to take themselves a little less seriously.

Which brings us back to Thor: Love and Thunder. The movie starts out on an endlessly bleak landscape as we get the grim backstory of how Christian Bale becomes the villain known as the God Butcher, setting off his search to take out the Gods who allowed his daughter to starve to death. Back on earth, Thor’s old flame Dr. Jane Foster is on her own quest to find a cure for the cancer that is killing her. Both these stories are a bit depressing, but set up genuine reasons for the way the characters behave.

Things lighten up a bit as the narration continues by Krog, the giant rock creature who befriended the Asgardian God in Thor: Ragnarok. Krog has a very chill approach to storytelling, and his accent makes every syllable an adventure. (Originally I thought Krog was voiced by one of the guys from Flight of the Conchords, but it is director Taika Waititi. I love a New Zealand accent!) The Legend of Thor is acted out by a troupe of thespians, each one chewing the scenery as if they hadn’t eaten in days. The film is full of surprise cameos, such as the aforementioned Matt Damon as Loki, who owes Tom Hiddleston an apology. I won’t spoil the others in the play, but the guy playing Thor has a certain family resemblance.

Characters from other Marvel films keep showing up; there is a whole sequence involving The Guardians of the Gallery and various characters from previous Thor films. Valkyrie is still King of Asgard and is wearing a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt, which I guess means that in addition to becoming a theme park, the town now has Broadway shows? In what seems like a complete non-sequitur, someone gives Thor a pair of Giant Screaming Goats, who are then put to work pulling a Viking ship that used to be a ride in New Asgard. There is absolutely no reason for these goats to be in this movie; yet I found myself hysterical every time they bleated an anguished scream.

With the help of Thor’s Hammer, Jane has developed superpowers; and has also inexplicably turned blonde (Don’t call her Lady Thor!) Thor, Korg, Jane and Valkyrie eventually find their way to Mt. Olympus to warn the other Deities about the God Butcher, and an almost unrecognizable Russell Crowe shows up as Zeus, his toga quite a bit snugger than it was in Gladiator. His accent seems to have been lifted from the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding; I kept expecting him to pull out a bottle of Windex and spray it on someone’s zit. A huge fight breaks out as the adventurers try to steal Zeus’s Lightning Bolt, and the ensuing battle is very glittery as it turns out that all the Gods bleed gold. I would like to commend the person who decided that Thor should be naked and covered in golden gore in this scene.

The movie deals with some fairly heavy subjects that are not usually addressed in Marvel films; fear of death and what awaits in the Afterlife, kidnapped children, Thor’s inability to move on from a past relationship. I found it refreshing to have the conflicts be a bit more human-scaled, as opposed to more giant alien monsters attacking from outer space. As goofy as a lot of the scenes were, at least the characters were fighting for something that was relatable.

I laughed more during this film than I have in a long time, and it was the perfect two-hour retreat from reality that I was craving. And even though I had just sat through 35 minutes of previews and two hours of the film while drinking a giant Diet Coke, I knew enough not to rush out of the theater before the final credit scenes. The first one came almost immediately and involved a conversation between Zeus and his son. It happened so fast that I’m not even sure if I would have recognized who was playing Hercules unless I had been spoiled. Stop reading right now if you don’t want this little hint:.

 “He’s here! He’s there! He’s every-fucking-where! Her-cules!”

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film Three Kernels. The delightful addition of Guns N’ Roses on the soundtrack (and a character who changes his name to Axl) create a tempo that hits hard and fast and drives the film.

New Category: FlicksYouShouldPick, FlicksIWantToLick

Top Gun: Maverick

I once worked in a small department of six people that was isolated from the rest of a large corporation; because no one could hear us (or find us, for that matter), we played records all day long on an old phonograph with a tinny speaker. Our music selections came from a few boxes of vinyl left over from the 80s that had been donated from someone’s basement. 

We had several favorites—Flashdance, Saturday Night Fever, Oklahoma!—but the one that got played almost every day was the soundtrack from Top Gun. For reasons I can no longer remember, we all took nicknames from the film. I am proud to say that I was Maverick; although I bear absolutely no resemblance to Tom Cruise, I liked to think that I could fly an airplane upside down if I absolutely had to. Also, last person to pick ended up as Goose.

Sitting in the audience for Top Gun: Maverick and hearing those first twangy eight notes of the Top Gun Anthem, I was immediately transported back to a time when toxic masculinity was fun and a skintight white t-shirt was all you needed to make a girl swoon. The original movie wasn’t really that good, but oh, that shirtless volleyball game.

I’ve read a few reviews that have mentioned you don’t need to have seen the original 1986 Top Gun to be able to appreciate the new one, but I disagree. If you’re there for the airplane fight sequences, you’ll enjoy it because they are spectacular; however, how can you understand the complicated relationship between Maverick and Rooster without knowing how Goose died? Or get a lump in your throat when Iceman finally shows up, remembering how cocky he always was?; or recognize the parallels between the sunset football game and the shirtless volleyball on the beach? Or understand that of course Tom Cruise doesn’t wear a helmet when he rides his motorcycle because he wouldn’t be Tom Cruise if he had helmet hair.

This is about as nostalgic a summer movie as there is; completely escapist and fun, filled with beloved characters who have aged far better (or have better plastic surgeons) than we have. Flight sequences are thrilling and inexplicably did not make me nauseous, even though there was a lot of swooping in loops and g-forces contorting faces. 

I should probably note that the Hollywood patriarchy is in full macho mode here, erasing the Kelly Willis and Meg Ryan roles from the original and giving Maverick a new girlfriend and an ethnically ambiguous female pilot; this film would definitely NOT pass the Bechdel test. Also interesting that they never name what country is supposed to be the villain here. It is much more convenient for global film distribution if you’re not offending China or Russia or whoever might have a hidden stash of nuclear weapons. 

But somedays I’m too tired to protest and just want to give in to airplanes and cute boys and popcorn and forgetting that the world is blowing up around us. I know, I know—I’m a bad feminist and Tom Cruise is a Scientologist and I’m a terrible pacifist for supporting this love letter to the military complex. Just give me this two hours and eleven minutes of the skintight white T-shirts and I swear I will do better next time.

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film Three Kernels. I may need to create a new category called GuiltyPleasures.

Categories: FlicksThatYouShouldPick, FlicksIWantToLick

Dr. Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

Alert the media and empty out the vomitorium, because this review marks the return of the OG flicksthatmakemesick

A long time ago far, far away, this website was created to help those who got nauseated at films that used the hand held shaky cam and other quick cutting techniques. Directors finally calmed down a few years ago, so flicks abandoned its unique premise for the more standard movie review site. Those of us who are afflicted with motion sickness gratefully put down our Barf Bags and headed back to theaters, more worried about the symptoms that might come from the guy coughing behind you than what the film would do to your stomach.

This website is thrilled to be able to honor its origins by telling you that one of the parallel universes in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is the one where movies regularly made you sick! As Stephen Strange and his new partner jump through millions of different times and places, their journey flashes by so quickly that your stomach ends up in the row in front of you. I had eaten some greasy, buttered popcorn, which is a lethal snack when a film goes into edited frenzy. I closed my eyes as quickly as I could, but not before the theater had started to spin and my mouth filled with saliva, which is never a good thing. But my eyes flew open at the dialog when the young woman in the film said “I’m surprised you didn’t puke. Most people do.” And then Benedict Cumberbatch proceeded to barf his guts out on a rooftop somewhere in another version of New York.

I was so stunned by art imitating life that I didn’t pay much attention to the reason they were in the multiverse, because 1) it doesn’t exist and 2) I am sick of it. This is the third movie I have seen in the last three months that ended up jumping around like frogs on acid. I realize there are not a lot of original ideas in Hollywood, but this is starting to feel like the mid 80s when studios spewed out about a dozen or more body switching movies that had all the same plot (starting with the original Freaky Friday in 1976).

I felt this was one of the weaker Dr. Strange films, missing a lot of the humor and angst from the original one and its various sequels. The action sequences went on forever and seemed repetitive. Director Sam Raimi’s influence is evident from an unusual amount of gory, horror-filled moments; my take on this is if you have an actor with cut glass cheekbones like Benedict Cumberbatch, why have him spend half the film as a zombie missing part of his face? And as much as I was a fan of WandaVision, I’m not sure if the Scarlet Witch missing her two fake children was enough of a reason to go psycho on the entire world. 

Marvel keeps churning out these films and I suppose I will keep buying the tickets; but somewhere in a different part of the multiverse, there is version of me who is getting really tired of the same old schtick.

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film Two Kernels. In the ranking of all thirty-four Marvel movies, I would score it above Eternals and Ironman 2, but below AntMan.

New Category: FlicksYouShouldPickOnlyifYouAreaDieHardMarvel Junkie

Everything Everywhere All at Once

I do not know how to write this review.

There is a lot to discuss about Everything Everywhere All at Once, but if I try to describe this film, it will come out as a garbled stream of references that will make no sense at all when taken out of context. They also make no sense when taken in context or when watched in the movie, but here are a few of them anyway: ChapStick snacking, dueling dildos, manipulative raccoons, hot dog fingers, stick-on googly eyes and an Everything bagel that may represent much more than a delicious carb.

Everything Everywhere All at Once is an apt title for a movie that combines time jumping, Kung Fu and the IRS. It feels like it jumped right through the wall of the multiplex into the theater where Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is playing, although the Marvel multiverses tend to be shinier with lots of sharp edges. (The multiverse is real, right? Because how else could there possibly be this many movies made lately about how life feels like we are splintering into tiny pieces and longing for a way to connect the dots, or to each other?) The various sites in EEAaO look like Mad Max:Thunderdome merged with the stuff ET built out of Eliot’s closet, which is pretty much what I suspect the future will look like, only with more rain.

The film is described as a science fiction comedy, but this is no Buckaroo Banzai. The real life segments of Michele Yeoh’s character Evelyn are so depressing that one can understand why her mind starts to splinter and the jumping into other versions of herself seem so appealing. She becomes a Kung-Fu expert, an opera diva and a movie star. In one of the funniest segments, she verse-jumps into the persona of a Benihana type cook, working along side another chef who has a raccoon under his toque that is manipulating his movements in a vaguely familiar way. You can’t help but wonder if the producers will be sued by Disney or if the internet will simply write another musical about it. There is also the aforementioned Everything bagel that is a black hole-ish type of metaphor that represents nihilism or depression or is a stand-in for the title of the film. Hard to be sure.

The cast is wonderful, full of actors who are vaguely familiar but will make you face palm when you realize who they are. Michele Yeoh has been famous and amazing since western audiences first saw her in Tomorrow Never Dies and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; I knew I had seen Stephanie Hsu somewhere but it took me a minute to place her as Joel’s new flame, Mai, in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Jamie Lee Curtis is almost unrecognizable in a performance that is so lacking in vanity that she has become the face of the IRS to me now if I ever get audited. But the actor who totally stumped me was Ke Huy Quan, until I finally remembered him as the kid guide Short Round in Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom! And Data in The Goonies! The guy has a sterling resume.

That the film’s ultimate message comes out clearly in the midst of all this chaos is quite an achievement. It verse-jumps through your emotions as quickly as Evelyn does personas. I found myself thinking that the words to describe this are similar to life as we have experienced it the past few years; unsteady, fractured, unexpectedly funny, terrifying, and as confusing as an IRS audit. Maybe we just need to stick some googly eyes on the scary parts and simply keeping holding on to each other.

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film the score of One Perfect Popped Corn. This is the first movie that has received this ranking in the new flicksthatmakemesick system, and I will fight anyone who wants to try to talk me out of it. I found this film to be transcendent and have not stopped thinking about it since I saw it. Other people who have offered their opinions of “Yeah, I thought it was pretty good, too, but not really life-changing” are incorrect.

Categories: flicksthatyoushouldpick, FlicksThatHaveADick (two, actually, in latex)

Oscar Recap (as if anyone cares who won at this point)

Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it? I’m sure no one watching the Oscars was thinking about their Academy Award ballots after Will Smith smacked Chris Rock in the face and then won the Best Actor trophy a half hour later. This event will certainly eclipse the whole La La Land/Moonlight mix-up that happened a few years ago as the most shocking thing that has ever occurred at the ceremony; at least until the next thing happens.

There are plenty of hot takes you can get about this incident from every single person on the internet, so let’s proceed with the winners (more on my personal reaction further down). These awards were all over the place; Dune won the most with six, and they were all technical except for Best Score. (Question: How does a film that is mostly CGI generated win Best Cinematography?) The Power of the Dog (which had been nominated for twelve and was considered the frontrunner for Best Picture) won only one for Jane Campion for Best Director (back-to-back women directors for two years!). The poor showing for TPOTD busted a lot of brackets—people voted for Kentucky and then the Cinderella story called CODA swept in and took Best Supporting Actor, Adapted Screenplay and Best Picture. Lin Manuel Miranda did not get his EGOT when that upstart Billie Eilish took Best Original Song for No Time to Die, and poor West Side Story only got one for Best Supporting Actress (Arian DeBose—but her acceptance speech was great).

I am a bit annoyed that after all my hard work of watching every movie nominated, no one really cares about who won (I imagine the winners feel that way, too). Thousands of people managed to produce some top-notch films in the middle of a global pandemic, and the only thing anyone wants to talk about is The Slap (#Twitternamedtrend). 

I’m not going to take sides here, as I feel that both Chris Rock and Will Smith were in the wrong. This was a classic case of impulse control—I would guess that from Will’s perspective, it probably felt like it happened in slow motion. You can see him laugh at Chris Rock’s joke about Jada’s bald head and then catch site of his wife’s face and her reaction. Why storming up the runway and smacking the comedian was the only thing he could come up with, I don’t know; but there is some history of Chris Rock mocking Jada in the past. It’s also possible (probable?) that Rock did not know about Pinkett Smith’s medical condition that caused her hair loss. But why would he be making a joke about the wife of a nominee’s physical look in the first place? Talk about punching down.

And here is my personal take on the situation—and the fact that I am nervous about writing this gives you some insight about how Jada must have felt. I have dealt with alopecia since I was a teenager, and it is crushing to your self-esteem. My biggest fear has always been people mocking me for something I have no control over, and the idea of a comedian joking about her bald head in front of a global audience is the nightmare that anyone coping with this has probably had more than once. Will Smith hitting Chris Rock was the absolute worst way to deal with this; but he is probably hyper aware of how his wife feels about her hair loss and reacted without considering the consequences. 

And the consequences are huge. To then win the award for Best Actor and make an acceptance speech where you once again make a huge faux pas by saying “Love makes you do crazy things”—which is a classic statement made by abusers everywhere as they protest they only hit “out of love”—was quite possibly the worst thing he could have said. Everything about this situation was terrible and no one came out looking good, but I imagine that shiny gold statue that will be sitting on Will Smith’s mantel is going to be a tainted reminder of what should have been a triumphant night.

I told you all to vote for Andrew Garfield!

Dune (*BP22)

The first ten minutes of Dune used the words Atreides, Caladan, Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, and House Harkonnen as fit rulers of Arrakis, and I gave up. I had only about nine hours until the Academy Awards started and there simply wasn’t enough time to learn an entirely new vocabulary. I’d read Frank Herbert’s Dune way back in the 70s and hoped that fond memory would be enough to help me sort out the players, but nope. That information has obviously been replaced by theme songs from TV shows of the 80s. The only thing I could remember about the book was the sandworms, and I might have gotten those confused with the ones from Beetlejuice.

And then “the VOICE” spoke to me. I don’t know where it came from, but it said very clearly: “No one cares if you finished it or not. Why are you putting this pressure on yourself? There are probably only seven people reading this website, and you still have to finish making the Chicken Marbella for the party tonight.”

And so ends the great experiment of watching all ten Best Picture nominees; not with a bang, not even with a whimper. Just relief that I can stop thinking critically about movies and go watch The Lost City, which I understand requires no thinking at all.

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film Two Kernels. I only watched the first half hour, but the kernels are for Timothy Chalamet and Zendaya for being pretty and simply existing.

I’m obviously going to have to create a category called FlicksIWatchedOnHBOMax because the last four entries were from that streaming service. Maybe I’ll call it FlicksWhosePasswordINicked.

King Richard (*BP22)

I wanted to like King Richard; I really did. It tells the story of Venus and Serena Williams and the father who raised them to become two of the greatest athletes in the world. The star is one of my favorite actors (Will Smith) and I usually love a good inspirational biopic. The first hour or so of Richard Williams driving his kids around in a VW minibus and talking about his plan to make champions out of his two girls was entertaining. It was heartwarming to see how he put the all-around character of his kids at the forefront, and he was obviously a major influence in making them who they are. 

But at some point, the film needed to move away from him screaming about them opening up their stance and let the talents of the girls start to take over. And while Venus is finally allowed to make her own decision about signing with a sponsor toward the end, I was much more interested in how two sisters can have such phenomenal careers and compete against each other and still remain best friends. I didn’t need to see more of Will Smith in those very short shorts.

Venus and Serena are listed as Executive Producers on the film, so they obviously approved the script and wanted to honor their father. But I felt having all the focus be on the man behind the girls gave short shrift to the fact that they were the ones standing out in the blazing sun pounding the ball into the court. Will Smith is an iconic actor but I never entirely lost sight of him, even with the lisp and the shorts.

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film Two Kernels. I absolutely loved Aunjanue Ellis as the mother, but felt there was way too much of Richard Williams.

Categories: FlicksIWatchedOnNetflix (I don’t have a category called FlicksIWatchedOnHBOMax, and also it doesn’t rhyme, but the film is NOT streaming on Netflix)

Drive My Car (*BP22)

Go on, admit it. You never thought I would actually get to the three-hour, sub-titled Japanese film about grief that is a Best Picture nominee before the Sunday deadline.

Me, neither. And yet, here I am to tell you about Drive My Car, not only nominated for one of the ten best films, but also director Ryusuke Hamaguchi for Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay. And for Best International Feature as well! 

A theatrical director is staging a production of Uncle Vanya two years after his wife has died of a cerebral hemorrhage. The producers have assigned a young woman as his driver, and they spend a great deal of time cruising around Hiroshima in a red Saab listening to a cassette tape that his deceased wife had recorded of the Chekhov play. Repetition is how the director learns the lines, and by the time the film is over, I’m pretty sure that I could play Sonya as well. We hear a LOT of Uncle Vanya.

The movie is a study of people locked inside their emotions. For a film with the verb drive in the title, there is a lot of stillness. Even when they are actually in the car, the camera barely moves. These people are so frozen in their grief that one gets the feeling that if they allow themselves to experience any emotion, something inside will crack right open. Even when they finally get to that point, it still seems like the act of acknowledging their pain is muted by years of silence. The film builds with a slow momentum and tension until you feel like you can barely breathe because of all the intense feelings that are not allowed to escape.

About that slow momentum part . . . Hamaguchi is a master of tiny increments of tension, but the film is three freakin’ hours long. I understand what he was doing with the camerawork—the driving becomes more of a medium shot, then wider, then lots and lots of tunnels that show the director and the driver getting more comfortable with each other—but it just went on forever. I realize it is the director’s prerogative to pace a film the way he wants, but I wonder if audiences who have been seeing mostly Marvel movies would be able to watch this. 

I mention this because every year the Academy shuns popular favorites (like Spider-Man: No Way Home), and then complains because no one watches the Oscars or goes to movies anymore. Of course, the two demographics are completely different and don’t need to have any overlap, but this is the kind of film that critics love and most people won’t watch. That doesn’t mean it should not be showered with awards—this film will deservedly win Best International Feature, and it is a masterclass in silence. And I’m not suggesting that all films be dumbed down to level of the typical movie audience (Jackass Forever made $23 million dollars its opening weekend.) It simply answers the question of why no one is watching the Academy Awards.

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film Three and a Half Kernels. The pace and the length are almost hypnotic, and by the time you get to the end, you feel like the silence these people live with is almost more eloquent than anything they have to say (and they say it in many different languages, too!)

Categories: FlicksThatYouShouldPick, FlicksIWatchedOnNetflix, (I don’t have a category called FlicksIWatchedOnHBOMax, and also it doesn’t rhyme, but the film is NOT streaming on Netflix)

Belfast (*BP22)

Belfast is the story of The Troubles in Northern Ireland between the Catholics and the Protestants, a violent period that started in the late 60s and continued for nearly thirty years. Written and directed by Kenneth Branagh, the film is his memory of growing up in Belfast amid the escalating violence. 

The movie is seen through the eyes of a nine-year-old boy attempting to understand how his childhood neighborhood is changing as gangs and terrorists insist that his family take sides in the conflict. Filmed in black and white, the movie is an odd assortment of low angles and strange composition. There is one unnecessary shot as the camera does a slow, complete circle around the child; I assume this was to show the confusion he felt, but I found the movement to be distracting. It felt as if Branagh was attempting to convey the tension of the situation through the cinematography, but it took me out of the film completely because it was so strange. This is his 15th movie as a director, so the man is no novice. The story is powerful enough without adding any tricks, and that is how it felt every time he did something jarring like switch from B&W to color and then back again. 

It is impossible to watch this film without thinking about the war in Ukraine. The normalness of everyday life shattered by terror and explosions; children being dragged to safety by their parents; the bewilderment of innocent citizens wondering how violence keeps happening again and again. It’s always interesting to me how the times we live in influence art that already exists and changes our perspective of it. I wonder if that will affect the voting for this movie as Best Picture. There were other films more compelling, but none have been quite this timely.

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film Three Kernels. It is simultaneously charming and sobering and the plight of the family resonates, but the distracting camerawork kept pulling me out of the movie.

Categories: FlicksThatYouShouldPick

Nightmare Alley (*BP22)

I try not to go into movies with preconceived notions of the subject matter, but when I realized that Guillermo del Toro’s newest film Nightmare Alley was set in a carnival, the first thing that popped into my head was a quote from Austin Powers. “Only two things scare me: Nuclear war . . . and carnies. Circus folk. Nomads, you know. Smell like cabbage. Small hands.” 

I have to agree with Austin, because when there are circus folk around, you just know it’s going to eventually lead to geeks.

Wikipedia describes Nightmare Alley as “a neo-noir psychological thriller,” and it is certainly that. Noir means black and the color palette of the film is so dark that it sometimes reads as black and white, with all the bright tones usually associated with a carnival looking like they have been smeared with grime and filth. The film is a production designer’s dream, from the wonky funhouse angles and jars of fermented babies lining the walls to the electric chair that is designed to up the drama of the woman who is electrocuted nightly. Everything looks damp and a violent storm is always about to erupt. I don’t know if it smells like cabbage, but it sure looks like everything reeks of urine. This is a rough way to make a living, and the desolation of the backstage circus areas is reflected in the faces of the people who inhabit these spaces. 

That includes the geek. Early in the movie, there is a graphic depiction of what it would be like to be a raging, caged alcoholic who is flung live chickens in front of an audience and then bites their heads off. Not a profession one would want to end up in.

Bradley Cooper enters this bizarre world and quickly adapts to a variety of odd jobs. His general prettiness is immediately noticed by a fortune teller, and he starts to learn the secrets of her husband, the mentalist. The film spirals into darkness as he becomes a master at reading people and eventually ends up in a plot with Cate Blanchett to trick people into speaking to their dead. The cast is great and the story gripping, with an ending as horrifying as it is inevitable. 

I was mesmerized by this movie; it did not do well at the box office, but I wish that I had seen it on a big screen simply because the look of it was so spectacular. Of course, that would have made the geek scenes really big, so perhaps HBOMax was the way to go. It does not appear to have much of a chance at Best Picture, having won no other awards this season, which is a shame because I would count it among my top three favorites this year. Maybe just close your eyes when they bring out the chicken.

Side note: Why does Bradley Cooper always take roles where he ends up looking like he’s a complete disaster? The man is very handsome, and just once I would like to see him make it to the end of a film without pissing on himself.

Second Side note: I have been informed by a loyal reader that I neglected to mention that there is a brief flash of Bradley Cooper’s full frontal in this movie. Since I try to give the public what they want, I have added the category FlicksThatHaveADick to this review. Although that was not the original intent of this label, the customer is always right, so here you go. (It’s also been added to The Power of the Dog. Hello, Dr. Strange!)

The Popcorn Kernels of Truth give this film Three and a Half Kernels. It looks amazing, and as much as I am embarrassed to admit this, I simply could not look away from the geek biting the head off the chicken.

Categories: FlicksIWatchedOnNetflix, (I don’t have a category called FlicksIWatchedOnHBOMax, and also it doesn’t rhyme, but the film is NOT streaming on Netflix), FlicksThatYouShouldPick, FlicksIWantToLick, FlicksThatHaveADick

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