''The Killer Inside Me, an adaptation of a pulpy 1952 novel by Jim Thompson, had its world premiere at the Sundance festival last January where, as the credits rolled, a member of the audience stood up and screamed: "I don't understand how Sundance could book this movie! How dare you? How dare Sundance''
seriously mate, fuck off....think it's awful, fine...take it to your fucking blog or the pub.
don't try and make a scene because then THAT'S WHAT EVERY FUCKING HACK WILL WRITE ABOUT, YOUR SILLY BOLLOCKS REACTION TO THE FILM
every fucking festival, i swear...
'oh hey....did you hear? someone burned a sausage in protest during the new godard film...OMGZZZ...that must be representative in some way, we should keep writing about that'
fucking repressed film critics....the one time someone will notice them and they start acting like fucking divas.
you can't get away with that shit in real life...literally no one wrote about the time i started waving my cock at the screen during Wanted....not a person. if a guy angrily waves his cock at angelina jolie's face, but no one writes about it, does it even happen?
i've asked myself that question a lot in the last couple of years.