Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me the pleasure of ushering you down the pristinely clean sandy beaches of a sleepy, centennial celebrating, coastal community that seems serene on the surface of the warm, inviting wave's sway, but harbors dark depths of spoils-pilfering greed and one unforgivable, murderous misdeed; do tread lightly in the saltwater as we offer you the life preserve of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile cinephile. For your 19th episode, Red Devil and I review one of our most sunken treasures, a sublime pastime of watching, re-watching this top-notch follow up to John Carpenter's Halloween. This mystery maritime remains a resounding good time for it shows us one ghostly galleon, the seafaring, pants you'll pee scaring; the Elizabeth Dane drove the crew insane, aboard the 3-mast clipper, captained by a murderous skipper: Blake the bay-slaying Ripper. Carpenter's directing in his prime, commanding the flash mob fog's dread, looming mystery and capturing, with iconic intensity: Blake and his six crewmates undead. I confess to you, Cinematic Fanatics, this Seagrass seafaring flick is neither feared, nor revered by all, and some scorners make the mistake of dismissing The Fog and forsaking the sword-wielding Blake, they claim this to be a nautical debacle, that the effects remain far too tame; I consider their criticisms unfounded, their lack of idolization for this slow-burning, seaweed-churning, decapitation-earning-ending ungrounded and this review shall silence their slander with saltwater filled lungs drowned. This is a slick maritime, cinematic experience that touches a trio of genres: supernatural, mystery, horror-- it transitions so seamlessly between genres and oft simultaneously, in such a way, that you process it as a simple study in filmmaking sleekness. Hitchhiker rules: not even Jamie Lee rides for free, the price of transport is flat ass, gas or helping Nick scour for the Seagrass. This film commences with a warm campfire, Father Malone proves a chilling liar, due to Antonio Bay's dark deeds, six souls expire, for their bloodlines are tainted, and descend into hell's deep-sea pyre.

Recline, Cinematic Fanatics, in your favorite well-worn, stale chair, rustle up some popcorn, fresh as fstars, the antithesis to that stale a** chair, I just mentioned, zoom in and zone out as I unwind the daily grind with a slick flick pick. John Carpenter's The Fog is the flick, so very slick, hence my pick! When Slick Flick Pick is near, stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's voice, you hear. Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I am your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative clock while feasting our eyes on this slick-flick-pick prize.

Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… we offer you: Pick 19: Slick Flick Pick: Forsaking Blake was Their Mistake (Dead Calm LeproSEA); (John Carpenter's The Fog, 1980). Today, we'll discuss-- why it pays to pick up a risqué hitchhiking stray, the risks of collecting wood debris from the bay, how, though late to the broadcasting fray, Stevie still saves the fuc**** day, and no matter how much Father Malone may pray, he'll only earn a brief reprieve…for Blake returns to behead his prey.

- Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet and your dead calm, fog blood bank co-host: Red Devil

 P.S. *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me the pleasure of ushering you to a grand, well-endowed, upper-crust-- by invitation only-- elite socialite soiree of academics, anthropologists and benefactors, who stand in attendance, and through the dimly lit, grimly creature bit, throat slit, skull split with missing brain matter that will no longer, in the missing thalamic region, fit and a bloodbathroom crime scene that would make any desk clerk, museum guard, or rent-a-cop quit horror-laden corridors of this museum's delectably ornate pillars, priceless murals and grotesque happenings while we tunnel under and emerge, out the other side, to Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile cinephile. For your 18th episode, I review a resounding, pulse-pounding, evolutionary biologically slash scientifically confounding, creeping creature omnipresent, underfoot but overlooking, allthewhile surrounding, 90's monster, horror, disaster, slasher, science meld astounding. I have adored this film since my ole stomping ground dollar theatre I took the liberty of sneaking in, well under the required age of an R rated film, premiere theatre viewing. I confess to you, Cinematic Fanatics, here and fstars now, this flick is neither loved, nor revered by all, and some naysayers possess the Tom Sizemore balls and gall to besmirch the good name of this old relic flick, they claim it is formulaic and lame, the creature is far too tame; I consider their aspersions blasphemy and their lack of veneration for this violent, wicked ride of a film… a shame. This is a slick cinematic experience that touches a quartet of genres: horror, disaster, monster, thriller-- it transitions so seamlessly between genres and oft simultaneously, in such a way, that you process it as a simple study in filmmaking sleekness. Sizemore is rarely the leading man and his coke/hooker addled life is far from ideal, but he commands the screen, every scene…he does steal, he goes toe-to-toe with the Kothoga, makes it squeal, and though he remains superstitious as fuck, he evades the creature, prevails, never once serves himself up as the creature's meal. This flick is super fstars slick, also based on a book, bringing the binding to page-defying, terrifying life-- filling with omniscient dread every curated nook, and when, of the monster, the film offered my first look, my blood congealed, I lost my breath and my heart god**** shook. I offer you, regarding this monstrous, horrific diversion, a chaotic Calisto Effect in full fstars bloom engendering a chimeric, mohawked wheezy-ass-lizard that strikes, spreads and stirs doom--once aflame, said creature will bring beautifully abhorrent light to the dark subbasement's gloom: The Relic, circa January 1997.

Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Pick 18: Slick Flick Pick: Cautionary Reliquary-- Kothoga Has No Victim Quota (The Relic, 1997). Today, we'll discuss-- when to flash your badge as many times as you deem god**** necessary and risk an exhibit, how, a chimera's movements, to severely inhibit, why superstitious violations, Lt. D'Agosta will prohibit and how refreshing it must be to, from you’re a**hole superiors, not take any shi*.

- Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me the pleasure of commencing with the sacrifice of devising an ill-conceived, poorly-planned and abysmally-executed heist, but, from this audibly projected crime sacrifice, we'll maintain an honor in our thievery, remain nice... all of you loyal listeners shall receive, from this slick flick pick, of your share--a slice; welcome you widowed wives who lived lavish lives, but now resort to blackmail widowing of white-collar marks to Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your 17th episode, I review a tragically slow-burning familiar, yet nuanced, seasoned with welcome surprises and lethal godd*** guises, this neo-noir, crime, heist, thriller was both critically and financially supreme, and while I grow vexed by some of the overt social commentary themes, it remains fun and fascinating to watch unfold, the trio, then quartet's criminal scheme, and while this film is not wholly unique, it deftly sidesteps the mainstream. I have adored this film since my first post-cancer, red-boxed rental viewing. I opine to you, cinematic fanatics here and fstars now, this flick is leagues from perfect and mile-markers shy of pristine, but it does not shy away from the fray of poverty-oozing streets, dirty, blood-stained fstars politics conducted in crisp white collars by men who are eager to bleed for their own greed, two million dollars remains the street/scheme set price of their nefarious need and the corruptive jungle of Chicago remains an inextricable weed. This is a slick cinematic experience that touches a quartet of genres: neo-noir, crime, heist/thriller-- it transitions so seamlessly between genres and oft simultaneously, in such a way, that you process it as a simple study in filmmaking sleekness.

I offer you, regarding this slow-burning, Sugar Daddy endorsing--then spurning, serpentine plot winding, and narration turning, Viola's emotional churning, distraction lit by orchestrated flare burning, an alderman, for more prestige… yearning, and a calm, collected brother slash murderer, of both rappers and a man in a wheelchair, most concerning: Widows, circa November 2018. Recline, Cinematic Fanatics, in your favorite well-worn, stale chair, rustle up some popcorn, fresh as fstars, the antithesis to that stale a** chair, I just mentioned, zoom in and zone out as I unwind the daily grind with a slick f****** flick pick. Widows is the flick, so very slick, hence my fstars pick! When Slick Flick Pick is near, stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's voice, you hear. Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I am your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative fstars clock while feasting our eyes on this slick-flick-pick prize.

Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Pick 17: Slick Flick Pick: Black(mail) Widow--What's Grief to a Thief? (Widows, 2018). Today, we'll discuss-- how to lose your Superbowl ring, how to festoon your home with unsubtle art and when to adorn your person with bling, when to answer a burner phone's ring and how not to make a baby with a niece fstars fling.

- Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me the bodyguarding, chauffeuring--16 times cockblocked in 16 blocks of gridlocked traffic-- sacred, shady cop shield duty of securing the metaphorical witness of your attention and maintaining your attention for however long it takes my overage, overweight, shuffling on one good leg, and a floundering liver, self to usher you the distance of 16 blocks to your cinematic court date destination, our method of transport… another suspense sustaining, witness incessantly complaining Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your 16th episode, I review a briskly burning formulaic formula-addled, with a few surprises sprinkled upon this cinematic confection, this crime, action, thriller flick that was both critically and financially mixed, but when you immerse yourself in this slick flick, you remain transfixed, by the solid performances, particularly a rough looking Bruce who drinks his on-on-the-clock cocktails straight and unmixed. I have adored this film since my, in the company of three amigos at the time, initial theatre viewing. I admit this flick is far from perfect and distanced from pristine, but it does not shy from revealing streets that are gritty, far from pretty, and a collection of coppers most unclean. This is a slick cinematic experience that touches a trilogy of genres: crime, action, thriller. It transitions so seamlessly between genres and oft simultaneously, in such a way, that you process it as a simple study in filmmaking sleekness.

I offer you, regarding this straight-forward on winding, squalor-rife-streets, claustrophobic, ramshackle buildings and crumbling crawl spaces, jagged alleyways and overpeopled subway tunnels efficient action/thriller, the flick's witness, who initially seems witless, Eddie bunker, may have been a highs school b-ball dunker or possibly a flunker, but by the end of this slick flick, he will be a cake-maker baker; Jack Mosely pours on-the-clock liquor from the middle shelf in the company of a top shelf cast: 16 Blocks, circa March 2006. Recline, Cinematic Fanatics, in your favorite well-worn, stale chair, rustle up some popcorn, fresh as fstars, the antithesis to that stale a** chair, I just mentioned, zoom in and zone out as I unwind the daily grind with a slick f****** flick pick. 16 Blocks is the flick, so very slick, hence my fstars pick! When Slick Flick Pick is near, stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's voice, you hear. Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I am your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative fstars clock while feasting our eyes on this slick-flick-pick prize.

Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Pick 16: Slick Flick Pick: Save the Witness who Talks Less (Via Violence, They'll Silence); (16 Blocks, 2006). Today, we'll discuss-- how to keep your calm, wits and temper when transporting a garrulous con who can't stop talking, how to cross every major street without jaywalking, how to thwart corrupt cops who, you, they're stalking, and my lingering recommendation to change the film's title to 16 Minutes of Testimony Blocking or 16 Narrow A** Escapes.

- Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me the inflaming, flammable, still smoldering, apartment fire and provocative social commentary rich pleasure of satirizing the criminal media within the charred, smoking remains of a tenement in the Big Rotten Apple via another titillating Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your 15th episode, I offer a burning, bold, blazing satirical, crime, action, thriller flick that was a critically mixed bagger, but financially faired with a tad more swagger that expertly incorporates a film within its own film's film with a vast spectrum of offerings-- through eight segments of 15 minutes, this is a 2 hour film with 10 hours of provocative ideas: a detective/arson detective comradery piece, a slick portrayal of a trifecta of social motifs…the American criminal justice system, the addictive and decadent properties of the bleeding, leading media, the pros of celebrity for both professionals and cons, and a solid, reliable thriller fstars flick in its own slick pick right. The irony is not lost on me that Edward, last name Burns, plays a burn victim advocate who fights all that ignites and the ensuing collateral damage that burns! I do not know who is the tougher fstars New YAWKKK tough guy, but Eddie Flemming is as slick as Emil is sly. This is Deniro's film, on the hunt, such a thrill, but when his own blood does spill, he simply stares down his captor, spits in his face, and goes out with a bombastic bang... not a slow, lumbering pace. I offer you, regarding this satirical, crime-glorifying but also decrying action thriller, this Eddie dunking his drunkard head into a tub of ice, that chewed half-cigar serving his prop and vice, his fame lasts but 15 ticks of the big hand, but comes at a lifetime price, and of Daphne's kaleidoscope sapphire eyes, Jordy sure wants a slice; Eddie drinks from the top shelf among a top shelf cast: 15 Minutes, circa March 2001.

Recline, Cinematic Fanatics, in your favorite well-worn, stale chair, rustle up some popcorn, fresh as fstars, the antithesis to that stale a** chair, I just mentioned, zoom in and zone out as I unwind the daily grind with a slick f****** flick pick. 15 Minutes is the flick, so very slick, hence my fstars pick! When Slick Flick Pick is near, stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's voice, you hear. Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I am your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative fstars clock while feasting our eyes on this slick-flick-pick prize.

Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Pick 15: Slick Flick Pick: Dark Crime Lit by Limelight--The Downward Spiral of Viral (15 Minutes, 2001). Today, we'll discuss-- how to let a blue-eyed distressing damsel witness shower-- without crossing the line-- how a killer breaks off the knife's tip into his quarry's spine and how, in the manual of arson investigators, the rule against holding a suspect at gunpoint, in a dilapidated warehouse… is but a mere guideline.

- Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

Greetings Cinematic Fanatics, in this particular case, you Hellbound Book Hounds! The only thing

Snuggle the fstars up with a bloody, slick HellBound Book in your secretive nook.

As you earn each paper cut, you'll feel the characters in your gut.

Whether binding open or cover shut, you've wed the novel--the flick serves merely as your mistress slut.

Here, we unwind some novel binding for this is where final cut greets papercut!

The Slick Flick Pick

This master thief/amateur father, A.K.A. Luther fstars Whitney, remains blood slick bound and gripped by the smoking gun of a blood-stained letter opener slash blackmail with a presidential sealed manuscript!

Today you are gifted the treat of aurally checking out this edition **Third selection of Slick Page Flip** from my Chemohawk Library Rack: Hellbound Binding 3: Slick Page Flip: Witness to a Slain Mistress-- A Thief Skilled, Whore Killed and Vengeance Fulfilled; (Book Comparison/Blackmail File Film Analysis

- Your freestyle logophile, bibliophile and cinephile: Falsetto Prophet

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

**Soon your fingers will bleed as you fill your reading need. This is where final cut greets papercut.**

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me the absolutely, powerfully corrupting pleasure of robbing you of silence and filling said silence with another scoped and scouted Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For this episode, I offer an arresting, politically dramatic crime/thriller flick that was critically mixed, but financially well-fixed--effectively constructing a house of suspense with very cautiously placed cinematic trick cards through a tensely wound, taut and threadbare tightrope of cinching apprehension and claustrophobia conjuring direction. In the first twenty minutes of this slick flick, we know the killers, their chief, and her commander, though one killer can't stand her, but the cover up and the kill are just a few modest pieces of the bigger picture thrill, as these crimes are entwined with capital fstars hill. Though the commander in chief may oft get his way, he must contend with one thief's forgery, blackmail and persuasive sway; one of the killers is named Bill, the other cools your blood to a chill, and though there are moments tranquil, there are more bodies to drop and more blood to spill. I offer you, regarding this politicized crime action thriller, a jewelry looting, secret-service shooting, allegation refuting and- through deft filmmaking craft--never diluting auricular presentation of one of my most treasured features, religiously re-watched, directed with the confident hand and acted with the captivating charm of a man so likeable, even when cast as a career thief, a stranger to his sole child, he's still fstars good: Clint Eastwood, among the best, in this unforgettable, underappreciated, unambiguous, top-shelf cast: Absolute Power, 1997.

This flick remains a foggy, rainy Friday night treat, to be an active member of the AARP on a burglary spree, no easy feat; this flick opens with an ornate, ominous mansion in the dead of night and the ratcheted tension remains taut slash tight through morning light, Whitney's a private crook who'd rather run than fight, but at the airport bar, he hears something that sheds, on a fresh dark matter, an illuminating light igniting something inside that just don't sit right… causing him to miss his flight. Recline, Cinematic Fanatics, in your favorite well-worn, stale chair, rustle up some popcorn, fresh as fstars, the antithesis to that stale a** chair, I just mentioned, zoom in and zone out as I unwind the daily grind with a slick flick pick. Absolute Power is the flick, so very slick, hence my fstars pick! When Slick Flick Pick is near, stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's voice, you hear. Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I'm your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative clock while feasting our eyes on this slick-flick-pick prize.

Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Pick 14: Slick Flick Pick: Hail to the Thief-- AARP Burglary Spree (Absolute Power, 1997). Today we'll discuss how to familiarize yourself with a daughter long since estranged, how nimbly Hackman can play corrupt and deranged, how one old man's made whole, but the other short-changed.

- Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto 

P.S. *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

F.C.F.U: I apologize vigorously, cinematic fanatics, I said appraised during the course of this recording and meant to say apprised-- please forgive my vocal faux pas. 

F.C.F.U #2: Clint Eastwood directed True Crime in 1999. 

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Yalla, Yalla! Allow me the corrupting, consuming pleasure of ushering you to the sensually lit, cozy auditorium of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your ternidenary episode, I offer an explosive, political flick that financially failed, but critically sailed-- efficiently stoking political vexation through tense, quasi-documentary narration shining a bright tactical light on Miller, the once CIA-Bourne-spy-turned-soldier/killer… dropped in this sand-laden cinematic situation, Damon, born for this fuc**** thriller while sporting urban fatigues and gripping the keys to our country's salvation. I offer you, regarding this politicized action-war-thriller; AK shooting, feigned insights, gunfights, truth diluting, shitty sand storms, and sandy shit storms, storming torn, war-castles of the Emerald City auricular presentation of one of my most sincere slick flick pleasures, regularly re-watched, acted, with a cool, dry exterior by Matt, Roy Miller, Damon, in a zone that is as hot as it is sweaty, bomb demolished yet reality polished mystery solving, but guilt NOT absolving provocatively persuasive film that asks fair questions, by real war veterans, but offering unfair answers where the gunplay is as deadly as the wordplay and frag explosions are as explosive as the underlying cultural smoldering, this is a tense, terse exercise in Bourne like style, where you feel the rubble from every building blast, an underappreciated, unambiguous well cast film: Green Zone, circa March 2010.

This flick remains a sand-smothered treat, Matt blending in with legit sh** soldiers, no easy fstars feat; this flick commences during a firebombed night, and the tension remains through morning light, Miller is a killer who you'd not want to fight, but there more volatile question extant is… who, here, is in the right? Recline, Cinematic Fanatics, in your favorite well-worn, stale chair, rustle up some popcorn, fresh as fstars, the antithesis to that stale a** chair, I just mentioned, zoom in and zone out as I unwind the daily grind with a slick f****** flick pick. Green Zone is the flick, so very slick, hence my fstars pick! When Slick Flick Pick is near, stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's voice, you hear. Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I am your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative fstars clock while feasting our eyes on this slick-flick-pick prize.

Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Pick 13: Slick Flick Pick: Unfriendly Fire Inside the Wire--Agents of Mass Corruption (Green Zone, 2010). Today we'll discuss the smooth transition from amnesic, taciturn, low-key Jason Bourne to opiniated, hot-topic Oakley-adorned Roy Miller, a political polemic on duplicity endemic and corruption systemic, the viperous Jason Issacs--his wicked handlebar mustache, a multi-man fire team with vast weapon cache, and Brendan Gleeson's bottomless bags of corruptive cash. 

-Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me the sinfully sinematic-linked pleasure of ushering you to this overcast, otherworldly, underworld in the dimly lit, cozy auditorium of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your duodenary episode, we offer a financially successful, critically deathful slick flick that oozes visual stimulation, chaotic gyration and an elegant escapism mirroring a fantastical vacation. I offer you, regarding this action, gothic-horror, fantasy-fueled plot; duel-pistol shooting, blood baths, spills and stains never diluting, auricular presentation of one of my favorite unrepentant pleasures, habitually re-watched, acted, with a cool exterior, dry wit in damp rain, warm-blooded interior by two opposing otherworldly clans: one a cadre of blue-eyed, pale-thighed death-dealing DD's, the other an untouchable, hunted, unshaved, long-clawed smattering of former slaves turned lying cannibals or lycans, formerly accepted as werewolves or WW's; supported and enlivened by a colorful, convincing, collaborative collection of actors, working off a deceivingly complex narrative style handled by once-wise-man, Len, capitalizing on an intriguing, original screenplay capturing the soaked streets, sky-piercing cathedrals, and unrelenting bitter chill, a vital but harrowing byproduct of filming on location in Budapest, bringing to immortal life this overcast, underappreciated, well cast film: Underworld, circa September 2003.

This flick remains a rain-drenched treat, Kate running in skin-tight leather garb, no easy fstars feat; this flick starts on the streets as two Lycans pursue fresh meat, it's in the subsequent subway, that our fearless vamp and fearful champ meet, no doubt the Lycans-- the DD's defeat for the death these dealers dole out, you just can't cheat. Recline, Cinematic Fanatics, in your favorite well-worn, stale chair, rustle up some popcorn, fresh as fstars, the antithesis to that stale a** chair, I just mentioned, zoom in and zone out as we unwind the daily grind with a slick f****** flick pick. Underworld is the flick, so very slick, hence my fstars pick! When Slick Flick Pick is near, stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's voice, you hear. Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I am your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative fstars clock while feasting our eyes on this slick-flick-pick prize.

Enter, with us, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Looking at, Selene, the Leather-Clad Death-Dealer… and Lycan (Underworld, 2003). Today we will discuss an iconic, bombastic opening scene, Selene's leather wrapped corpse owning the screen, the refreshing reminder that Selene ain't Kraven's fuc**** queen for she is anemically lean in a cold, pallid sheen, with upright posture proper, pristine and one death-dealing godd*** machine!

- Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet 

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.

F.C.F.U(Fact-Check Follow up) The actual line delivered in the film: Did you have the nerve to cut the skin from his arm, or did Lucian do it?

Welcome, Cinematic Fanatics, to Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are my Cinematic Fanatic; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your undecim episode, note there is not an applicable Latin root word after denere until duodenary for 12, so I went straight Latin for your aural pleasure. I offer a financially lamentable, critically laudable slick flick that oozes linear narration, post-apocalyptic menace and self-deprecating, teary-eyed penance in equal fstars measures. I offer you, regarding this Australian dystopian, drama, western, post-apocalyptic/sci-fi, plot straight-shooting, dread, down under, never diluting auricular presentation of one of my favorite, annually re-watched, acted, with feral gravitas, by two leading filthy, studly gentlemen, one an aussie, the other a limey supported and enlivened by a colorful collaborative collection of actors/locals, working off a deceptively simple, straightforwardly original screenplay capturing the grim grime, omnipresent sand, and oppressive heat of filming on location in this desolate, disconsolate Outback shown via a sunny, slick flick sheen: The Rover, circa 2014. In honor of this Slick Flick Pick unveiling, I describe, through smooth detailing, this flick's slickness unfailing, gloom prevailing and raw dialogue regaling.

Though this film is incalculably bleak, it drives narration through relentless technique, it starts with coveted water in a sink, then takes you to your desperate brink, but Guy Pearce flaunts his lean, ripped physique, Pattinson enraptures through acting mystique, those they meet--sick degrees of freak, and though it is easy to be hard on a hard fstars film, I kindly ask you suspend your critique. Recline, Cinematic Fanatics, in your favorite well-worn, stale chair, rustle up some popcorn, fresh as fstars, the antithesis to that stale a** chair, I just mentioned, zoom in and zone out as I unwind the daily grind with a slick f****** flick pick. The Rover is the flick, so very slick, hence my fstars pick! When Slick Flick Pick is near, stick around, till, Falsetto Prophet's voice, you hear. Lights... camera...action... lends distraction and, with the right Slick Flick Pick, grants satisfaction. I am your worthwhile cinephile; you're my cinematic fanatics; together, we, excitement unlock and run down the real world's unimaginative fstars clock while feasting our eyes on this slick-flick-pick prize.

Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Blood-Red Rover (John Wick Down Under); (The Rover, 2014). Today we will discuss a brilliantly simple opening scene, Guy's angular jaw owning the screen, and the recurring theme that he remains thrice as mean as he is lean.

- Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet

P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.