Dude, where’s my gun?

Some guy filming his wall for two hours? More interesting.

Living for the movies is a concept I can understand, but attempting to live within them, well, is another matter entirely.

The end of madness.

Imagine if Bob Rafelson simply shrugged regarding Mountains of the Moon and named it Nile? Or if Werner Herzog, drunk with rage and self-loathing, had spit out Amazon rather than Fitzcarraldo?

Holy fucking shit, why is this film such a guilty pleasure? Despite hating it before, during, and immediately after its theatrical release….

The School of Rock is the sort of film that would be instantly forgotten if it weren’t for the fact that its lead actor is the “next big thing.”