Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics!
Allow me westernized, cannibalized, stabbing both westward and any upright bipedal who stands in their way, bisecting and dissecting pleasure of ushering you through the cracked, dusty and dried ground, blood-soaked, cave fire stoked and subsequent crime scene after their precious grave site is disturbed and provoked, this is a slow burning slick flick that a little past midway becomes a stomach-churning, panic-inducing, potboiler, the violence is blunt and extreme, and you will surely want to scream, but if you tell yourself it is not a real nightmare, rather a cinematic dream with a shock and awe theme, you will remind yourself that things are not as brutal and unforgiving as they seem, but I am on your team and it is my pleasure esteem to this flick redeem by gifting you this shocking, sensational, stupendous, scary, superior western/horror hybrid treat of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main tomahawked and scalped forehead vein of Chemohawk Sessions.
You're my Cinematic Fanatics; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your 43rd episode, my bicolor compadre, Othello, and I review one of our most feared, appreciated and applauded western genre entries of yore with a terrifyingly torturous twist in the Kurt Russell compendium of solid work: a bleak, haunting, menacing, gorgeously shot and choreographed, excruciatingly well-acted and written with proficient pacing and a cathartically pleasing conclusion to the terrors that befall a town and the quartet who rides, then walks then sacrifices much to save those who were, mostly all, abducted, imprisoned, bisected and eaten, this is a flick that does not pull its trogfuc**** punches, the question still lingers, which of our human cast will end up these savages' godd*** lunches?
Today, we discuss-- the dangers of trusting anyone mofo who approaches your camp in a furtive manner in the dark, the brilliance, economy and utility behind using a string of bells configuration as
- Your worthwhile cinephile: Eyes like a hawk, wit sharp as a trog killing tomahawk-Falsetto Prophet
P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.
F.C.F.U. Fact-Check Follow up: Everything I Touch by Stabbing
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By Falsetto ProphetGreetings, Cinematic Fanatics!
Allow me westernized, cannibalized, stabbing both westward and any upright bipedal who stands in their way, bisecting and dissecting pleasure of ushering you through the cracked, dusty and dried ground, blood-soaked, cave fire stoked and subsequent crime scene after their precious grave site is disturbed and provoked, this is a slow burning slick flick that a little past midway becomes a stomach-churning, panic-inducing, potboiler, the violence is blunt and extreme, and you will surely want to scream, but if you tell yourself it is not a real nightmare, rather a cinematic dream with a shock and awe theme, you will remind yourself that things are not as brutal and unforgiving as they seem, but I am on your team and it is my pleasure esteem to this flick redeem by gifting you this shocking, sensational, stupendous, scary, superior western/horror hybrid treat of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main tomahawked and scalped forehead vein of Chemohawk Sessions.
You're my Cinematic Fanatics; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your 43rd episode, my bicolor compadre, Othello, and I review one of our most feared, appreciated and applauded western genre entries of yore with a terrifyingly torturous twist in the Kurt Russell compendium of solid work: a bleak, haunting, menacing, gorgeously shot and choreographed, excruciatingly well-acted and written with proficient pacing and a cathartically pleasing conclusion to the terrors that befall a town and the quartet who rides, then walks then sacrifices much to save those who were, mostly all, abducted, imprisoned, bisected and eaten, this is a flick that does not pull its trogfuc**** punches, the question still lingers, which of our human cast will end up these savages' godd*** lunches?
Today, we discuss-- the dangers of trusting anyone mofo who approaches your camp in a furtive manner in the dark, the brilliance, economy and utility behind using a string of bells configuration as
- Your worthwhile cinephile: Eyes like a hawk, wit sharp as a trog killing tomahawk-Falsetto Prophet
P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.
F.C.F.U. Fact-Check Follow up: Everything I Touch by Stabbing