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in a world where nothing is sacred and everything is permissible, this movie feels like prophecy.
no rules, no brakes just pure, unapologetic indulgence on a loop.
the money, the women, the drugs, the roar of it all  it seduces you.
you laugh at the madness.

it’s so obscene, so over-the-top, so morally bankrupt… that it loops back around and becomes a masterpiece.

I don’t like Donald Trump. I want to make that clear. But god help me… watching The Apprentice made me insane.
Sebastian Stan kills it. Like actually kills it. Not in the Marvel “quippy punch” kind of way no, this is full method, dead eyed, shark suited Trump before the Twitter energy. It’s terrifying. It’s captivating. It’s kinda… goated?
This whole movie feels like watching someone sell their soul one handshake at a time. And the devil is Roy Cohn, played by Jeremy Strong in his final Pokémon evolution. The scene where Roy teaches Trump the “never it you’re wrong, always hit back harder” mantra? Shakespearean. If Shakespeare snorted coke and wore pinstripe suits.
There’s a shot where Trump stands alone, bathed in the sterile glow of a bathroom mirror, and mutters: “You’re not a loser. You’re not. You never were.” And I laughed. Then I realized I wasn’t supposed to. Or maybe I was. The whole film dances on this tightrope between horror and farce like Joker in a gold elevator.
When the credits rolled, I felt kind of gross. Not because it was bad. But because it was good. Too good. Like, maybe we shouldn’t have given this man an origin story good. But here we are.
Favorite quote? Probably that moment where Roy tells him, “They won’t love you, but they’ll fear you. That’s power.”
Also, someone give the costume department an Oscar  every tie looks like it wants to strangle you.
   
*Fav scene ( “I got three rules. OK? They’re my three rules of winning.

Rule one: The world is a mess, OK? The world is a mess, Tony. You have to fight back. You have to have a tough skin. Attack, attack, attack. If somebody comes after you with a knife, you shoot ’em back with a bazooka. OK?

Rule two: What is truth, Tony? What is truth? You know what’s truth? What you say is truth, what I say is truth, what he says is truth. What is the truth in life? Deny everything, it nothing. You know what’s true? What I say is true.

And third of all, most important, no matter how fucked you are, you never ever ever it defeat. You always claim victory. Always.”

I still don’t like Trump. But damn if this movie didn’t make me understand how he became Trump.
Hate the game. But the player?
He played the hell out of it.

So apparently Eva Green isn’t in this movie. Which is weird, because it feels like her. Mysterious apocalypse? Sexy existential dread? Scottish lighting? Eva Green should have walked onto that set in a velvet coat and whispered something cryptic about the end of love and time. Alas, it’s just Ewan McGregor and Eva Green’s spiritual stunt double, aka Eva not Green.
The movie itself? Sad people fall in love while everyone slowly loses their senses. Taste? Gone. Smell? Poof. Touch? Bye. Honestly, it’s like 2020 but with better lighting and more cheekbones.
I didn’t cry, but I did stare into the void for 20 minutes afterward. And if Eva Green had been in it? Five stars, no notes, I’d tattoo it on my soul. 
( funny story: There was a girl once. She looked like Eva Green like, actually looked like her. Same eyes, same mysterious “I know something you don’t” face. I didn’t know how to say I liked her, so I told her to watch Perfect Sense.
Not because she’d love the subtle themes of human fragility in the face of sensory loss. No. Because she was the film. That mix of elegance and chaos, like beauty slowly unraveling. I said “you should watch this,” but I meant “you haunt me in the best way.”
She never replied. Never even mentioned it. And now I just see her in ing, almost like a recurring dream I haven’t figured out how to wake from or live in.)

People give this movie so much hate, and I honestly don’t get it. Because for me? It hit. Bruce was angry, tired, borderline hopeless. Clark was trying so hard to do the right thing and getting torn apart for it.And yeah  it’s heavy. It’s not the “woohoo superheroes!” kind of movie. But that’s why I liked it. There’s this constant weight hanging over everything, and it actually made me feel something. Especially the Ultimate Edition it just flows better. Makes way more sense.
That warehouse fight? Insane. Best Batman action ever put on screen, no contest.The scene where Clark talks to Jonathan on the mountain? Quiet, weirdly peaceful. And that final moment… “This is my world.” That line gets me every time. I walked out of this movie feeling something I didn’t expect not hyped, but moved.
Honestly? I’ll always stand by this one.

I rewatch it every now and then and it still makes me laugh like it’s the first time. The tiger in the bathroom. Alan’s wolf pack speech. “Not at the table, Carlos.” Like come on  this stuff is legendary.
It’s the kind of movie you put on when you just want to vibe and laugh at a group of grown men completely losing control of their lives in the dumbest way imaginable. But it’s never mean-spirited it’s just hilarious. The rooftop toast scene? Iconic. The baby in the closet? I shouldn’t laugh that hard, but I do. And every time Alan opens his mouth, I’m either confused or dying  there is no in-between. Honestly, this movie doesn’t try to be deep, and that’s what makes it great. It’s a disaster of a night, told perfectly. Just dumb, quotable fun with the kind of energy that makes you feel like you almost that night too.

There’s something about it that just… clicked.

I watched it not expecting much maybe just a better version of the 2017 mess but what I got was something that honestly hit me on a deeper level. It felt like it wasn’t just about superheroes  it was about people who were broken, trying to find their place, trying to do the right thing even when everything felt lost. I related to that more than I expected. Cyborg’s journey especially got to me. Feeling like you’re not enough, like you’re just a bunch of broken pieces, but still having something important to offer that hit home. And the Flash at the end, running faster than time to fix everything… that scene gave me actual chills. It reminded me that no matter how bad things get, you can still turn it around. And the fact that this version even exists, after everything  after being scrapped, ignored, doubted it made me feel like maybe the stuff I care about, the stuff I’m trying to do, it’s not a lost cause. Not if I keep going. I don’t know. I just really needed this movie more than I realized.
So yeah, thanks, Zack. This one stayed with me.

Still my favorite animated movie.
I know people always talk about Pixar’s sad stuff, but Cars has this weird magic for me it makes me laugh, then makes me feel stuff I didn’t even know I needed.Mater being a complete disaster in the best way. “Don’t need to know where I’m going, just need to know where I’ve been.”
The tractor tipping scene is comedy gold. Luigi and Guido going full F1 pit stop mode? Unreal.
Even Chick Hicks had me cracking up with his dollar store ego.
But underneath all that chaos, there’s this quiet little story about slowing down, about not missing the people who care because you’re too busy trying to “win.” And Radiator Springs? It feels like home  or maybe the kind of peace I haven’t found yet.

Every time I rewatch it, I still smile at the same jokes. Still feel the same pull when Lightning hits the brakes at the finish line.

It’s not just nostalgia. It’s comfort. It’s joy. It’s home.

I don’t just like this movie, I grew up with it.
It isn’t just about a horse, it’s about freedom, resilience, and finding your way home even when the world tries to tame you. As a kid, I saw myself in that wild mustang, always pushing back against limits, always chasing something bigger. As an adult, I look back and realize how much this film shaped the man I’ve become.The animation? Timeless. The music? Pure soul. That Bryan Adams soundtrack still echoes in the back of my mind when life gets tough. Every time Spirit runs across the plains, I that I too can rise again  stronger, freer, and more sure of who I am.
that strength isn’t about never falling it’s about never letting anyone break you.

There’s a point somewhere in the middle of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly  maybe after Tuco drags Blondie across the desert, maybe before the cannon fire splits open Sad Hill where time just… folds. And you’re no longer watching a movie. You’re inside a fable, stretched across a dying America painted in burnt gold and gun smoke. You’re squinting into the sun with cracked lips and shaking hands, looking for something. Maybe it’s gold. Maybe it’s revenge. Maybe it’s just meaning. This isn’t just a western. It’s the western. A cosmic joke in three parts The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly  and none of them are exactly who you think they are. Blondie isn’t a hero. Angel Eyes isn’t quite the devil. And Tuco… Tuco is everything. Pathetic and hilarious and cruel and somehow, heartbreakingly human. Eli Wallach doesn’t play Tuco  he is Tuco. A character so alive you can almost smell him through the screen.
Sergio Leone directs like he’s composing a symphony with dust and death. The close-ups feel biblical. The silences stretch like noose ropes. And then there’s Ennio Morricone, who doesn’t just score scenes  he haunts them. That final standoff at Sad Hill is pure cinema. Not a word spoken, yet you feel everything. Every breath, every heartbeat, every drop of sweat. It’s absurdly simple and stupidly perfect.

And yes, it’s slow. And yes, it meanders. But that’s part of the pilgrimage. You don’t rush this film. You walk it, like a long road through sunburnt wasteland, with your boots falling apart and ghosts trailing behind you.

By the time the last gunshot rings out, and Tuco is screaming from the gallows, you realize it was never about who’s good or bad or ugly. It’s about survival in a world where those lines blur and bleed. It’s about legends  not the kind sung in ballads, but the kind etched into stone, with a revolver.

It’s cinema. And it’s eternal.

 I recognize greatness when I see it. And Man of Steel? Pure alpha energy. From the first note of Hans Zimmer’s score, I felt my hooves tremble. Snyder didn’t just make a movie. He forged a myth. A modern odyssey. 

• Interstellar
• The Shawshank Redemption
• The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
• The Dark Knight
• No Country for Old Men
• Heat
• The Prestige