Cinemavenger

   The funniest, nastiest movie reviews anywhere.


mother!


You can't swing a dead baby these days without hitting some old school, stars and bars injustice.  Racist cops kill unarmed minorities, so people, including a handful of millionaire football players, protest.  The Feds and their supporters shit all over the First Amendment trying to shut everyone up.  Women get paid less than men for the same work.  Gay bashing is still a thing.


Most deplorable of all, after three years posting the best damn movie reviews on the planet, Cinemavenger still has to go to the theater every week like a sucker in order to see movies.  The studios don't send DVD screeners or invitations to press nights.  After three years?  It's a fucking travesty!


Which is why, with Flatliners not showing until tonight, the only brand new release that played on Thursday was the latest Tom Cruise jawn.  So, you get a review of mother!  Because fuck that Scientology-lovin', closeted midget.


"Triple Dog" Darren Aronofsky makes hard movies.  No, not porn.  Although they are the kind of movies that people tend to love like hardcore or hate like softcore.  The junkies in Requiem for a Dream will make you feel like you need a shower.  The Fountain will have you questioning the very nature of time and space.  The Wrestler will make you weep at the futility of life.  Black Swan will leave you with bugs in your brain.  And now mother! will have you asking, "Did I really just watch a horror movie that has the anguish of the creative process and the terrors of celebrity as its boogeymen?"


For a rich, renown writer/director who gets to bang the likes of Rachel "Twice As" Weisz and Jennifer "867-5309" Lawrence, Aronofsky deserves to be bitch-slapped for mother!  It's a two-hour, poor me whine fest about how awful his life is.  Cry me a fuckin' river, Darren.


Plus, where Requiem, Fountain, Wrestler and Swan grab the viewer by the throat and never let go, mother! wanders around full of much ado about nothing for most of its runtime.  It does eventually find its feet with a mad crazy, blowout ending that will make even the most jaded horror fan say, "What the fuck?!"  And it does offer up a couple of quick shots of Lawrence's tits and Javier "What Do You Do With Bad Pub Customers?" Bardem's wang.  If you're into that sort of thing.


Aronofsky, you mother!fucker.


September 29, 2017

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