“Fuck Me, Freddy.”

As of last Tuesday, my friend Robyn had never seen the atrocity that is the movie Dreamcatcher. And since my sister and I had been meaning to watch it again for years now—just to see if it was quite as horrible as we remembered it being—we happily rented the film when we went to visit her.

In a word: yes. It is.

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The Virtues of Cowardice . . .

So, here we go: I watched Alien a few years ago, and I found it kind of boring. I liked Sigourney Weaver in it, of course. Ian Holm and Tom Skeritt were good. I found some of the scenes kind of creepy, especially the one with the alien-busting-from-that-dude’s-stomach. (It’s kind of funny to watch the original scene after growing up with the Spaceballs version—like, why isn’t the little alien singing yet? You mean that doesn’t actually happen?) I may try Alien again at some point—if pacing is my major problem with a movie, then I’ll usually give it a second chance, because sometimes I need to see a film twice to really appreciate how the story moves. But still, my initial reaction? Eh. Not that impressed.

However, Aliens? The cleverly named sequel? Thankfully, that was a lot more fun.

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