You know that scene in Wrath of Kahn where Kahn puts that slug in Chekhov's ear that slithers in and attaches to his brain stem in what looks like the most painful manner possible? Yeah, well, that's what it's like watching all 90 minutes of this glorified home movie where the credits mostly consist of the names of these family members being repeated over and over. Cinematography? Tom Everitt. Script? Tom Everitt. Field audio? Tom Everitt. I assume all the director did was film all the stuff at their house of them talking about how wonderful their trip was, which comprises of most of the movie. Other than that you get such interludes such as, this little white girl visiting African villages and talking about how disadvantaged they are. This little white girl singing nationalistic propaganda songs nobody likes. And most of all this girl singing TERRIBLY. Seriously, you can tell everybody working on this project is either very polite, paid very well or her family members, because this doesn't contain any graphic footage of people jamming pencils in their ears.
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