'I say, my heart, what do you think of this here Anderson fella?'

'Well now, darling, I can positively say that I detest him without reserve.'

'What a strumptiously horrid thing to say.'

'It's the style, puppet, it gets my petticoats in a jolly mess.'

'How dreggedly unfortunate. Yet you have gazed upon his latest concoction?'

'Indeed, darling.'

'May I perchance inquire as to the why behind this dubistic decision?'

'Naturally, my dove. It is much akin to a filling that breaks in one's tooth. It hurts, but the tongue will always seek it out despite the pain.'

'Ah. So how was it?'

'Gradiously frabtabulous.'

'That good, eh?'

'Oh, my sweet, it is a feast. A celebration of cinema and of storytelling.'

'Right. So has Monseigneur Anderson abandoned his stylistic whimsy?'

'Au contraire, my love nugget, he has surriliously embraced it. So much so that it surpasses quirk and becomes something else entirely. It is a gateway to an immersive universe that is more an ode to the medium than to the maker. It is neo-absurdism, laced with magic realism and finished off with a hugantic dose of love and passion.'

'My, what big words you use.'

'This creation deserves them. The meticulous dedication to each and every scene deserves them. The incroyedible amount of details deserve them. The rich, sumptuous, virtuous language of the script deserves them. The divine Mr. Fiennes deserves them.'

'So are you now an Andersonian convert?'

'No, my sweet, I still loathe and veribly hate the brunt of his other work. But this? This is an absolute masterpiece of stylistic exuberance, cinematic devotion and frivolous storytelling.'

'I am happy for you, darling.'

'So am I, puppet, so am I.'