They Live ★½

The cheesy one-liners, in-your-face male bravado, seductive female gazes, boom boom gun sounds, dramatic drawn-out fight scenes, and the Reaganomics allegory without a hint of subtlety doesn't work on me. I cringe. I wince. I wait for it to end.

John Carpenter must be that annoying uncle that won't stop talking about the concert he went to in the '70s where he saw Mr. electric guitar snort coke off of anna nicole blonde's ass and how cool that is still. Americana by way of juvenile fantasy is a tumour in western civilsation's gullet.