+1 star for the incredible elevator scene (thank you James Wan) but seriously…is it not enough to stand on the shoulders of greatness (through bland, heavy-handed ripoffs of The Exorcist and The Omen)? Do you also have to take a massive shit on those same shoulders with this artless, copy/paste-style presentation and these boring, cheese cutter mannequin characters? This has left me brain dead and bored and certainly not scared. While this being only the third film I’ve seen in this cinematic money-verse, I’ve already lost all energy to continue.
Oh my God...I’m gonna need some time to process this one. And a rewatch. There’s so much to digest. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever found a movie character that I relate to more than Theodore. It’s past 4 AM so I should probably stop writing now and go to bed because if I don’t I will probably be writing for hours...and I’ll probably start crying...and ugh I kinda just want to go to sleep and watch it again tomorrow.
I’m gonna delete this later for sure...but holy shit. Where has this movie been all my life?
“You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
“They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?”
“No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.”
“Then what do they call it?“
“They call it a Royale with cheese.”
Things that increase with each rewatch:
-Uma Thurman’s sexiness
-The intensity of my ear-gasm every time I hear Urge Overkill
-My desire to drive Zed’s chopper