One long, downbeat descent into the void.
What better way to celebrate the most macabre month of the year than to watch a grotesque comedy about Hollywood and the funeral business (guess which one is worse…)?
Strange, hypnotic doom and gloom Southern cult classic, a modern-day Hatfield and McCoy feud underpinned by a violent, fatalistic melancholy.
Your typical Elvis musical stripped of all the on-camera performances, the bikinis, the laughs (except when Guy and Nan start sniping at each other)…and then heavily medicated for severe depression.
“I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. And I’m all out of bubblegum.”
Please, sir…may I have some more filth?
Slam-bang, lightning-fast, crude, vital actioner…with something on its mind.
“Some men…you just can’t reach.”
Those eyes…those green laser eyes…
Take that, Mrs. June Cleaver!