Cracktown. Sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy if you ask me.
These filmmakers killed Wes Anderson and Napoleon Dynamite and forced their corpses to make love. The result? Twistee Treat.
Almost the title for a brilliant film (think Alfonso), but as far from one as it can be. "I don't believe you that there's a million dollars and I don't believe you that mom's gone!" Believe it, my terrible little actress.
"He left me because I'm Chinese!" No, he left you because you suck at acting. But it's black and white! Dramatic! Right? No.
God is the big shot-caller. So go salsa dance, freaky-eyes. Dance your sadness away.
OMG! Existential queries and more uninspired B&W noir cinematography coupled with excessive bad acting! It's Ghosts of the Heartland after reading basic Kafka!
AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I don't think I've ever seen an unintentional horror film until now! Someone make it go away! Gooby is not OK for the whole family! Gooby is OK for no one! And Eugene Levy? Really? Remember when he was good? But now he's gone. Gooby ate him.
Good job, Apple trailers. You just made me lose faith in cinema. I'm going to drop out of film school and learn trade. Perhaps in fertilizer.
Alex Deaton - currently crying over the death of movies.