Considering the source material, I wasn't expecting something so eerie and atmospheric with the slow-burn dream logic of In the Mouth of Madness.

I’ve had just about un œuf of Sorkin’s self-congratulatory horseshit.

A pretty spot-on adaptation of the jerk-off motion.

Timothée Chalamet has yet to meet a piece of furniture he cannot insouciantly drape himself over.