Karl O' Toole

For a show about a well reviewed restaurant this was surprisingly weak sauce. Jude Law should be deported for that accent. He cannot act. Bateman is just the same in everything. There were so many wonderful New York City (my city) locations wasted on another example of Netflix bloat. Black Rabbit was excessively twisting and turning warren with rodent turds for a final stretch. Fodder for brain dead time.

A Desert reeks of first time director. There are some interesting locations but the storyline (for want of a better description) is nonsense. The passing of David Lynch left a big hole in the movie world. You cannot help but think this director and his little shovel want to fill a little in. Tell me he is not a big fan of the ending of Wild at Heart with his Bobby Peru look alike, locales and frumpy porn gals. There is a lot of unintentionally laughable dialogue and the performances come up short, literally in the case of two male leads.

Overwrought and over long and over acted. There was not a TV cliche TASK didn’t take a swing at. Lots of spaghetti thrown at the wall with very little sauce to stick it. A show that needed to pick a couple of lanes. A very run of the mill offering from HBO. Lazy writing. Lazier dialogue. The unlikeliest of plots.

A beautiful, artfully presented concert with poetic inclusions. There’s a push on the Memento Mori Messsge with a slow build. The documented concert ends spectacularly as we know all Depeche Mode concerts do. This definitely had the sense of an ending. We fans may just have to enjoy the silence. Or is it just a question of time until they tour again. I’m sure they’ll never let me down. I’m getting personal. Jesus.

More body horror. More heavy handedness. Think The Substance (which I also despised) for attention seeking, unloved losers.

Adolescence steps on its own toes with its painful strive to be realistic. It then fails with head pounding stretches of unlikely dialogue and communications. Obviously purposefully omitted from the plot, but there is not a moment of sympathy for the young victim. The therapist session was like a bad reworking of Equus. Double your pleasure double your fun with double mint double mint double mint gum …. Or hot chocolate with marshmallows. I can handle slow, but comatose self importance I find difficult. I’m sure it will be an awards favorite.

I gotta say, Felicity Jones loves a good wheelchair movie. A film that grazes lots of big ideas and lands few. Self important at 210 minutes of drama verging on the melo. There are beautiful moments but not enough. No one seems to age. Where did they get those filtered cigarettes in the late forties? Brodie seems to be playing an angry extension of his character from The Pianist. His is surrounded by some terrible support performances. I’m a Guy fan but this is not the movie he should be nominated for. I’ve yet to meet anyone who liked this film. One for the critics. Lots of face rubbing and inappropriate touching. And marble kissing. Watch The Master and There Will Be Blood instead. I’m guessing this director has.

I tried to get interested twice. Both my innie and my outie found it dull as watching paint dry. Think of really contrived, really slow drying paint and a lot of paint watchers staring, trying to convince themselves it’s interesting , smart paint they are obsessed with. Dull paint they believe has hidden layers just waiting for a few tiny chips to get peeled away every slow week after every slow week. Only to discover, there’s another dull layer underneath and this layer is covered in images of one dimensional performances and tiny tiny yawns. For a group of people that constantly try to hide their actions, maybe they should think about not reading everything aloud. It’s all rather silly. Do yourself a favor, go back and watch some seventies paranoia cinema. This has all been done before, only properly.

How many directors and better movies can one director rip off and still come up with such a mess? I’d imagine the critics and reviews will cream themselves looking for body image messaging and self worth drum pounding. A movie that aims for shock value and sinks in the silly pond. I’m sure we will be hearing non stop about Demi’s “brave performance”. You want old nudies, check out PornHub.

I’m not a Doctor but I would guess that if your Mother God is starting to look like a Smurf it’s probably a bad sign. What I always find fascinating with these leaders is how they manage to find followers as gullible and dumb as they do. The list of Galactics influencing these literal space cadets is hilarious. Robin Williams was Mork - he has fabulous intergalactic connections. I’d certainly have him as a voice of the Gods. Of course Trump and Wacko Jacko are big influences. Make America Silvery-Blue Again. You watch these talking heads now , after Mother took the big silver oxide star trip and wonder how they still lack any common sense. You moron leeches couldn’t recognize a serious alcoholic when you sat with her day in and day out? Shame on you Galactic fools. You should all be locked up. She Ascended! She drank herself to death while you all helped.