Watched The Good Dinosaur (2015) on Netflix with Anna-Liisa and the boys last night. It may be the single worst movie I’ll see this year. If you haven’t seen it yet, don’t bother, I can summarize it for you. Imagine if the Young Earth Creationists who brought us the Creation Museum kidnapped John Lasseter in Strawberry Shortcake costumes and forced him, at gunpoint, to have Pixar make a movie written by some hack from Petersberg, Kentucky, who hasn’t had a paying gig since the director of The Care Bears Movie (1985) fired him for incompetence.
There are movies that you consume like a guilty pleasure: like candy or junk-food. You know they’re garbage but you like them regardless. This is NOT one of those movies. It’s the kind of movie that leads you to do crazy things that worry the neighbors: like run out your front door barefoot shaking your first at the sky and screaming: “I WANT THAT TIME BACK! Please, LORD, give me that hour and forty-one minutes back! Erase my memory! Something! Anything! Make it go away, LORD; please, make it go away! It burns.”
—John Faithful Hamer, Twilight of the Idlers (2016)