Fantastic Four Fail Bomb
By now you may have already figured out this little crucible of knowledge for yourself: there ain’t nothing fantastic about the latest Fantastic Four reboot. My eyes blew chunks every which way. Of note and for the record this is my first ever public negative review on my blog. But this is serious bidness here, no? My thinking goes something like this, if I don’t like I don’t post it. But I am making an exception here because the public at large needs to be warned!
FF is a total fail bomb and director Josh Trank needs to give me my money back x 4. I want damages for pain and suffering. I want my retina replacement surgery paid for and I want my therapist bill paid in full. But most of all Mr. Trank I really think a public, and very official apology, and a refund, should be forthcoming like muy pronto bro!
And I really believe there ought to be some type of certification directors need to obtain to prevent further theatrical catastrophes from happening. A kind of Unicef like relief fund set up for victims who find themselves stampeded by the uncaring hooves of a horribly bad runaway movie. Without the proper training (unless you’re a sadist, are you a sadist Mr. Trank?) we shouldn’t have to be subjected to such horror. Or maybe this was really an horror movie masquerading as 100 minutes of PG-13 family fun. So not the case.
I was expecting Ant Man to be horrible, but my man Peyton Reed hit that motha’ out of the freaking theater. I know, maybe Josh you could just shadow Mr. Reed (Not Reed Richards, such an apt and horrible joke) around and carry his director’s notes or hold an umbrella over his shiny head. Then maybe by some miracle the film making gods will smile down on you and have mercy and bestow upon you the ability to not make the masses regret your existence. That’s all I got. Scathing? Yes. Honest? Yes. True? Exceedingly so. You’ve been warned. Peace.