Trillaphon: Taste the fruity rainbow of cinematic failure.
Hydrogen: Context time again: The cat was tragically hit by a car, and their miracle cure was to sort of lay some gauze on top of its head.
Trillaphon: Anyone involved in the making or distribution of this movie should have their license in veterinary medicine pre-emptively revoked for life.
Hydrogen: The one girl who is allergic to books is wearing a purple bow-tie necklace, which might be the single most white-trash piece of clothing available short of actually draping yourself in a Confederate flag.
Trillaphon: What, exactly, was that green ball rising through the ceiling supposed to represent here? All of the investors' dollars ascending to heaven, never to be seen again?
Hydrogen: These special effects are pretty baffling, but at least they lack the fourth-wall-shattering stupidity of earlier scenes in which you could see the laser dot they were using to control the cat.
Trillaphon: God fucking damn it, you just had to remind me about the laser pointer, didn't you?
Trillaphon: You know, there's really only one golden rule for making shitty softball buddy-animal movies like this: You don't pull back the already razor-fucking thin curtain on the stupid tricks. You don't show Lassie jumping all over Timmy's broken leg to get to the snausage in his pocket, or the 30 outtakes of Flipper checking the second-unit director into the tank wall for some less PG-rated interspecies bonding, or Beethoven the whatever-th taking a break from bringing down evil corporate fat cats to sniff his understudy's taint and scratch his ass on the soundstage carpet, or-
Hydrogen: Yeah no, you can definitely just go ahead and stop doing that now, I think we all get the picture.
Trillaphon: I, but, I don't...how...can't...
Hydrogen: Go to your happy place.
|Music / Sound||-8|
A brave pop culture addict puts his foot down once and for all.
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