...cleaved open with manly ferocity to seek the red softness that lies deep within...

Such delicate curves glistening as they fold in towards that gentle groove-like undulation...

During long winter nights the Eleanor figure mysteriously and suddenly declares, "I could peel you like an orange!"

Is this the third seasons of The Tripods finally?

Reminds me of a story I heard via my dad about a family who successfully sued a cruise line operator because their once-in-a-lifetime cruise was shared with a yodellers' convention.

...instead it turned out to be ultimate social media-isation of culture. Art is an empathy machine. Emotion porn.

Meanwhile Twit-er-X keeps switching me onto the For You tab which might finally drive me to delete my account.

Song knows how to create a cinematic mood, but no capacity to tether it to her actors. They stand and talk, or sit and talk, at each other. They barely seem to exist as bodies even in a movie that's often concerned with bodies.

Another good non-villain part: Amazing Grace.

Wake Up Dead Man. Sinners. Bugonia. Weapons. House of Dynamite. Nouvelle Vague. Sentimental Value. Even Del Toro-ised Frankenstein. Ironically I also feel this is why they've all been popular. The sizzle of provocation but no steak of actual risk.

Grande was notably out of her depth in the dramatic beats of this one. Also somebody might need to explain Jonathan Bailey to me. From these and Jurassic Umpteen he's about as exciting as corn starch.

Also, you can hire the best singers in the world - and the ones this had were pretty good - and still not polish those turds into good songs. That said, I liked this a little more than the first one, because it had a semblance of a story.

This was about Rob Reiner but could cover just about everything else.