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Eyes for sale... I no longer want them, they feel soiled now.
Hey, I didn't watch the film deliberately. I live in a house with two batteries and one of them wasn't in the remote and if I ever find the sod I'm justing going to dispose of it in a fire regardless of what the instructions say.
You know how in real races they sought through the mangled wreckage in search of the remaining bits of the driver after a crash? That's what it's like trying to find a film amongst the last two hours of my life... except in that this case if I find anything still moving I'm going to hit it with a shovel.
I've experienced pain in my life, I've experienced head injuries, and oddly I suspect that those involved in making this film have too. The only difference is I let my pain out in a long girlish shrieks and they decide to bottle it up and then inflict it on others.
Here is the plot *SPOILER*
Things go in circles.
Not the cars, the plot. Well, the cars might have done but there were so many random changes of camera angle that I was too busy having a seizure and staining the carpet with my froth.
So basically the plot is goes as follows: Seizure, despair, seizure, disbelief at plot, seizure, why has that man got a very odd shaped head, seizure, someone almost does something of a social nature, seizure, the first hour of the movie turns out to have no relevance to the first hour, seizure, cars driving down street in a hilariously homoerotic display of gurning and head wobbling, seizure, begging for death, seizure, uncontrollable laughter at quite possibly the most crack-inspired moment in film history, at which point I was too busy crying to have any further seizures.
I should have stopped watching when my hand subconsciously began crawling towards the jumbo bottle of sleeping pills, yet I became strangely fixated by the horror...much like when you see a crazed but very small dog attacking a pensioner.
The level of testosterone displayed in this film makes Top Gun look like The Muppets Take Manhattan. Eventually I cringed so much that when they loudly announced they were going to "double-team the field" I slipped a disc. Women are allowed to do two things in the movie, stand there, and bend over. On a side note, neither of the two main ones seem able to do this well for the five seconds of screen time they have before it gets back to the seizures and I suddenly realize I have a shotgun barrel in my mouth and my toe's heading for the trigger.
I'd like to comment more on the plot but after a while I started drawing a more interesting film on my eyeballs with a pencil. Mine had Godzilla ripping Stallone in half, their film had some car doing something. Mine is better. Just trust me.