Tinseltown makes a noise, but out of which end?

By Jeff Kubik

Disclaimer: These are generic movie reviews. All style, no content. That’s why they’re in ap. There is no movie; this is not Entertainment, this is Academic Probation. Look at the corner of the page! Idiot.



Jeff Kubik

Movie Critic

crap (krap) n. [[< ML crappa, chaff]] [Vulgar] 1. nonsense 2. junk; trash 3. this worthless, stupid, waste of my precious time

Good lord, just when I thought that I’d seen the deepest, darkest depths of the sewage that is pumped through theatres, I find this reeking load of spoiled yak dung. I mean, I’ve seen some really horrendous films in my day, but this one literally induced me to try and slit my own wrists with my ticket stub.

You want to hear about the plot, don’t you? I warned you fully and you still want it. Alright, here goes. Some moronic, poorly written douche bag marches off on a quest so utterly horrible that I found myself vomiting intermittently into my milk duds. Then, he meets a few other mind-numbingly stupid characters who involve themselves in the story in an orgy of poor taste and crapulence.

Watching this "film" put me in mind of a young me, soiling myself and making sure everyone was well aware that I’d "made poop." If I were this movie’s director, I’d sooner saw off my scrotum with a plastic butter knife while a steady stream of salt and gutter muck was poured on the still-open wound than admit I’d had anything to do with this cancerous sack of maggot leavings.

Words alone cannot put into context just how awful this film was. As I write this article, I am performing an interpretive dance composed primarily of pantomimed urination and vomiting that I have entitled "Ode to an Open Sewer."

You will note that I haven’t included the name of this picture. This is my attempt to ensure that this bathtub full of liquefied scabs is not inflicted on a single other human being.

If you are unfortunate enough to stumble into this rancid pile of festering medical waste; may God grant you the mercy of a quick death.

It opens next Friday to the sound of a thousand lamenting souls.



Geoff Cubit

Movie Critic

Take me home Jesus! I’m all ready now.

Good gravy, that was a fine slice of North American cinema. Reviewing this movie is like post-

coital cuddling, apple pie and filthy German pornography all rolled into one. I’m certain that a movie as fantastically well written as this one had a beginning, middle and end, but now it just seems like one enormous climax.

If it were legal, I would marry this movie. I’d take the reel home, lay it down on my satin covered heart-shaped bed and do things that make my eyes glaze wistfully over just to think of. I didn’t eat a single jube-jube through this entire picture; there sure as Hell wasn’t anything sweeter than what I was getting from the screen.

I’d like to tell you what this movie is about, but I think that it might just be too much for the elderly. Without hyperbole or fear of contradiction, I’d say that hearing this plot synopsized would be more fantastic than a million-billion Disney Lands.

Every actor in this film was superb; I nearly had an "accident" every time an extra walked across the screen, portraying a pedestrian with accuracy you can’t even find in real life.

After screening this gem of a masterpiece, I paid the projectionist eight hundred dollars just so that I could roll around naked with the reel coiled tightly around my loins. It was the most satisfying experience I’ve ever had except, of course, for the actual watching of the film.

I’m going to have my brain surgically removed and replaced with the dvd when it’s finally released. Until that day, I’m going to sit at home in front of the makeshift shrine I’ve created and meditate on how unworthy I am to even think about seeing this pinnacle of social evolution again.

It opens next Friday, though after seeing it everyone will refer to dates only as the number of minutes it has been since their last viewing.