Hydrogen: And now, for Act 3 of this week's Blackout Fortified Theatre...
Trillaphon: Boy, for a weird little gnome-thing living in a pink candycane house in Gumdrop Forest, that bearded fucker sure knows how to throw 'em back. He's like a 3-foot tall Ernest Hemingway.
Hydrogen: I hope he knows that now that he let the perpetually drunk warlord into his house with an artisanal wine well, he's never getting rid of him.
Trillaphon: His name is actually "Hurla." Hurla the Hobgoblin, patron spirit of getting smashed.
Hydrogen: The Master of Mystical Moonshine, Archmage of Alcoholism, Protector of the Rum, King of the Handles and the First Gin.
Trillaphon: The Grand High Chundermancer.
Hydrogen: Cheech O' Chongins of the Shire.
Trillaphon: I don't want to question his mystical alcohol-fueled ways, but why the hell doesn't he just stay behind his magic epilepsy shield in the first place?
Hydrogen: All I know is, we finally found a good character in this movie.
Trillaphon: Shit, when you put it that way, let's quit while we're ahead.
| Plot | -8 |
|---|---|
| Acting | -8 |
| Special Effects | -10 |
| Directing | -10 |
| Music / Sound | -9 |
| Overall | -45/50 |
–
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Something Awful reviews the absolute worst movies out there. We focus mostly on horror and science fiction, because all writers here on Something Awful are huge nerds.
