I stepped through those whispering curtains and into that black auditorium a testament to things that never were and never could be wherein I found a throne an altar wherein I might rest my head to view the adaptation of McCarthy's tome adapted and filmed before being injected unhindered into the mainstream and as the lights dialled down so that only ashen blackness beset me I pulled several popped segments from within a striped jug made from card and left to dry alone among the shining lights and fevered musings of a service counter.
Behold yon child and father walking walking walking almost as if upon a treadmill turning relentlessly onwards towards a bleak and desolate event horizon while all about them man eaters snarled and gibbered and slave holders chased them through miles of never ending apocalyptic wasteland and I munched yet more popped segments and exclaimed aloud when out of nowhere came a shiver down my spine as that old trickster beckoning endlessly at me with sloth filled jowls dripping murder liquid hot and red onto the marbled floor of some never ending personal hell and while some may call it fear I called it but acute dismay.
Indeed as I left the mausoleum to hysterical imaginings I turned about face and said to my companion I didnt really see what all the fuss was about.
Nor I he said in return.
I mean without the prose of McCarthy it is essentially a film about walking through Al Gores worst nightmare.
I agree he allowed in my direction alighting a cigarette where the bus came to a stop.
I thought it was a bit of a mess to be honest I said. Didnt you think it was a mess?
If it aint itll do till a mess gets here.