Who keeps on giving this madman money? He does things to me, I can’t explain it. It’s like my brain rejects what I’m seeing so much that I circle back around and start to accept it. This is what happened with Resident Evil Retribution. I feel like Paul W. S. Anderson’s punching bag, like the slab of meat Scott Walker slapped, like a voodoo doll constantly being pricked by Paul’s ugly CGI prick. This is terrible. What’s happening? Who am I? This is gorgeous. This is ugly. Stop it, Paul. You make awful films. I’m going to keep watching them. Not this time, Paul. You can’t paul the wool over my eyes. This is bad.
Who keeps on giving this madman money? He does things to me, I can’t explain it. It’s like my brain rejects what I’m seeing so much that I circle back around and start to accept it. This is what happened with Resident Evil Retribution. I feel like Paul W. S. Anderson’s punching bag, like the slab of meat Scott Walker slapped, like a voodoo doll constantly being pricked by Paul’s ugly CGI prick. This is terrible. What’s happening? Who am I? This is gorgeous. This is ugly. Stop it, Paul. You make awful films. I’m going to keep watching them. Not this time, Paul. You can’t paul the wool over my eyes. This is bad.
