Ethan Huntington

More lesbians next time, please. There's a national shortage of them.

Not enough zoos. Too many topias.

Fine, this creeped me out too. You got me there.

Alright, I'll admit it, this creeped me out, guys.

First of all, this is not a film about an American psycho, it's a film about an American gay. Being part of this population myself and living in this country for 65 years, I know what it means to be a TRUE AMERICAN PSYCHO. We're not closeted, we're conniving. We're not stockbrokers, we're stockbreakers. I'm tired of this endless smear campaign spearheaded by Christian Bale himself (yeah that's right, I saw Newsies). When I think of a genuine American Psycho, I think of someone like myself - a person who's unafraid to put in milk BEFORE cereal, to wear SOCKS in bed, to chew LOUDLY in the library, to microwave ANCHOVIES in the workplace kitchen, to put wads of gum on the UNDERSIDES of desks - I'm a degenerate. Keep Christian Bale in the Batman movies and take him out of these painfully insulting ones. And for all my American psychos out there, you are seen (for legal reasons, this is a joke).

Folks, I can't keep defending myself. It was of my own reluctant accord that I returned to the local theater in 1987 in order to purchase a fourth and what I thought was my final ticket to see the Jaws franchise. As I have stated numerous times before, many of my friends and family are sharks. I, too, have chowed down on the clueless goldfish from time to time. I loved Finding Nemo. Bearing this in mind, I nearly had a heart attack when what I REALLY HOPED would be a shark redemption movie, turned out to be another serving of animal cruelty on a silver platter with a cherry on top. Before I could vomit or step out of the theater, I spilled my popcorn, Coca Cola, Twizzlers, and grape slushy all over the four toddlers sitting in the row in front of me. Then, I DID vomit and step out of the theater (not sure which one happened first). Not only did my viewing of this monstrosity cause me to lose friends, access to the theater on Main Street, and faith in humanity, it left me with no direction in life. Because of this, I began working at McJawnald's, a nonprofit that offers junk food to young sharks looking to contribute to America's obesity epidemic. But this is NOT a sponsorship. This is a denouncement of everything that Joseph Sargent stands for. Please AVERT YOUR EYES from this film!!!

People of the world, it is with the utmost regret that I announce that I shamefully viewed this movie in theaters in the summer of 1983. In an effort to justify my actions, I will say, that I was mostly doing this out of curiosity for how 3D would enhance the film - and not to watch more brutal and unnecessary anti-shark crimes. I got the goods and sat down in my seat feeling apprehensive but optimistic. After all, third time's the charm, right? WRONG. Worse than watching this vermin movie on my own, I had actually invited my friends Tiger and Mako to see it with me. When the time came that a shark was SLAUGHTERED on-screen, I physically screamed and spilled my popcorn, Coca Cola, AND my Twizzlers all over the toddler triplets sitting in front of me. Amid their wails and my own sobs, I thought to myself - how could I have been so naive? You will rue the day you crossed me, Joe Alves! Not to be confused with Joe Alwyn.

Hey guys, it's me again. I didn't think the day would roll around that I would write another review for the cinematic abomination that is the Jaws franchise. But, alas, I recently got fired from my job at McJawnald's. Now, I have a lot of time on my hands. I recall now, that in 1978, I decided to give this homoerotic fever dream a second chance by stepping into the theaters to buy a Jaws 2 ticket. In my defense, PETA, I thought that this movie would be about the shark coming back for revenge on its evildoers. However, I was aghast when - lo and behold - more animal cruelty. In fact, I was so surprised that I spilled my popcorn AND my Coca Cola on the two toddlers in front of me. Hastily, I left the theater and stepped out into the streets where I hailed a taxi from a benevolent shark. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes, knowing what I had just witnessed. People, especially Jeannot Szwarc need to realize that sharks are human beings too, and they MUST be treated accordingly. NEGATIVE STARS!!!

Excuse me? I thought this movie would be like "A Dog's Purpose" - instead, it turned out to be my worst nightmare. I've loved sharks since my childhood - I grew up with them, my favorite film was "Sharkboy and Lavagirl," I roomed with a hammerhead shark in college, I majored in Sharkology, and I even converted to Sharkism after graduating. Suffice it to say, I was appalled as I sat down in theaters in 1975 (I know, this review is a bit late) to watch what I thought would be a fun little documentary. As soon as they started shooting that poor creature in its round, smooth head, I broke down into tears and spilled all my popcorn on the toddler in front of me. I left the theater in shambles and vowed never again to watch another movie. Congrats, Steven Spielberg, you ruined my life forever. Shame on you! If I could give this 0 stars, I most certainly would.

The Babadook is the best queer film of the 21st century. It helped me come out of the closet and stop eating worms. My dog cried at the part of the movie that the dog died (oops spoiler), it was truly an experience. With his shimmying catwalk and his nails so long they could wrap around the world, this monster is a 10/10 slay. Though the child is rather annoying throughout the film, his demeanor is overshadowed by the glimmering rainbow that radiates off of the boogeyman (who we all know is the actual protagonist of the movie). Whether he is spreading gay awareness or haunting Australian families, the Babadook will always have a home in our hearts. P.S. This is not a joke.