The Crush ★★★★

HOLY SMOKES.

This is the kind of insane brilliance that occurs when sincerity and ambition exceed proficiency. The Crush, (allegedly based on similar events in Alan Shapiro's life), is pure embellished pandemonium, and exquisite absurdism. A world where a fourteen-year-old sits at the apex of wit, and where the guy from The Princess Bride has a fear of locked doors (which makes sense given his inability to keep his pedophiliac tendencies in the closet). It's one so bizarre that it has the dad from That 70s Show proudly showing off a fully functioning life-sized carousel—built by him—and forever relegated to childhood relic in a dingy, dusty, attic of foreshadowing. It's a world where everyone can be knocked unconscious with a mild blow to the shoulder blades, and where little girls are sent flying fifteen feet through the air when punched by men only slightly larger.

It's gross, disturbing, intensely uncomfortable, bizarrely edited, unintentionally hilarious and ultimately a trashy good time in front of the TV.

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