Léolo is a stinking gutter fuck of a good time. The worst that Internet porn has to offer, packaged in a neatly wrapped art house bow tie that actually predates the Internet, but predicts the burlesque grotesque-ity like a fortune teller dropping a massive deuce. Filled with semen, feces, bestiality, incest, fetishism, masturbation and girly men. It’s all here, and slut bag director Jean-Claude Lauzon is absolutely DGAF about it all. This film is incoherently blasé about good taste, but maybe that is it’s charm. Who is the judge of good taste anyway? Well, like all great art, it stirred an emotional response from me. The same emotional response one would get when you are offered money to have sex with a house cat in heat.
Archive for surreal
What more can be said about Brazil that hasn’t already been said? Not a lot, which makes this review pointless, but I do not need a point to ramble on about movies, merely the passion of film to guide me and the self serving desire to give my resume slightly more weight. At least my review will be better than the Nostalgia Critic’s. OH SNAP. I went there. I hope now that he will contact me and offer me a spot in his next video, doing some poorly scripted fight scene where we pretend to hate each other.