This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.

This review may contain spoilers.

Pure glorious stupidity. Nothing better encapsulates Scarface than the car they drive around in, this beautiful old school convertible, all boat-like in its 1950s glory, a classic so to speak, but laced with the tackiest possible upholstery. Tradition meets excess. The good-old-fashioned American dream brought screaming, stoned, and on fire, into the 80s.

De Palma's direction is so good, and Stone's writing is so bad, Together they mix into a potent cocktail of pure cult cinema. Obviously the greatest soundtrack of all time. Push it to the limit, babeeeee.

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