Film criticism chokes on it’s own vomit.

Somebody send Roy some money for being the one who actually read this to reach the point where he could share this little nugget of literary self-abuse:

The guns of tradition — strangely assembled, an eclectic mix no one could have predicted — have already begun to congregate, as Mary Eberstadt demonstrated in a brilliant piece examining the thematic roots of the more grim members of popular music, which often lie in seething anger at divorce. The fortress of sexual liberation is already doomed, though none can say with any certainty what will follow it…

As the University of Pennsylvania historian A. C. Kors one wrote, if you want to discover the most powerful objections to Christianity, look not to the haughty doyen of the modern age, the Darwinists and Nihilists and Rationalists; look instead to the sed contra objections of the great mediaeval Schoolmen.

What most marks the Modern Age is that thing from which the creed of the Cross recoils most sedulously…

Yeah. It’s a film review, but you have to go see which film it is to believe it.

Although it does remind me of a piece I’ve been working on for some time called:

The Transgressive Aesthetic In Films Where Jennifer Connelly Gets Naked, or Why I Have To Wait For The Credits To Finish Rolling So My Boner Goes Away

Mind you, that’s just a working title…

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Yeah. Like I would tell you....