Trillaphon: The only people I've seen...act...like that before are the type of insufferable theater majors you see eating alone in some sad little college cafetorium because they reek of BO and wear fox tails in the back of their 54W elastic jeans.
Hydrogen: We really have to point out that despite being blasted out an airlock into space at 200 mph, that zombie lady comes back later in the movie, and her only comment is "Did you know that the human body can survive for four to six minutes in vacuum?"
Trillaphon: "Also, did you know I can jetpack around space just by farting?"
Trillaphon: That pale lady who looks like she might have drowned before the shoot is pretty badass when she's not just vacantly staring into space or running around stark naked looking for camera lenses to rub her nipples all over.
Hydrogen: She's sort of a schmear of every female sci-fi protagonist ever. I'm especially reading The Fifth Element and Resident Evil here, with a dash of River Tam.
Trillaphon: So she's a double-Milla Jovovich?
Trillaphon: Yeah, the cover gives it away big time, this movie is basically Resident Evil: Tomb Raider - Zero Boobs Edition.
Hydrogen: Maybe that solid 20-minute opening block of nudity was an attempt to make up for quality with screen time.
Trillaphon: Even by that standard, this movie is less erotic than a yellowed, decaying page torn out of a 1924 Sears women's clothing catalog on which you can see part of a lady's bare ankle.
After years of being misunderstood, I had hoped we finally had "our" story. I was wrong.
He had a yellow inflatable tube around his waist, the kind with a comical duck head. There was a tiny fish in one of his hands, and a trident in the other. In the background a squirrel wearing shades was water skiing.
For fans of meaningless awards, these awards are extra meaningless.
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