Ethan Hawke was on his 18th bong rip of the morning (with Richard Linklater packing the cones) and Nicole Kidman was fresh out of the plastic surgery clinic at Double Bay - it was very difficult to get lost in the Scandinavian-Cosplay-Zack-Snyder-Lite given I spent the subsequent 2 hours focusing on those two and wondering where Gerald Lambeau was.
And the popcorn was burned...AGAIN!
NNNNNNNEEEEEEXXXXXTTTTTTT!!!!
This made me wait too long until helicopters started blowing up.
By that point there hadn't been enough titties and smack to keep me interested.
NNNNNNEEEEEEEXXXXTTTTTTTTT!!!!!
Dear Christopher Nolan and Warner Bros. Pictures,
I'd like to congratulate you on finally coming out of the closet and admitting that you failed one of your Semester 1 film school modules: sound recording and mixing.
The premise of the class is familiarising students with basic sound recording and mixing techniques i.e. holding the microphone within 4 km of the performer's mouth (preferably pointed in the direction of their mouth, or at a minimum: remembering to turn on the fucking…
