High Life

Sequestered interstellar impudence botanically inseminating raw delinquent justice.

Claustrophobic encapsulations reanimating grouse grizzled seared begrudged camaraderie fertilizing angst consoled.

Mutaric verse.

Holistic cross-section.

Experimental cortical recalibrated resonance reverberating frontiers jejune meaningless runes.

On the sly, roll out, acculturate, condition, speculative tiers definitively impacted, like an age old feudal grave.

A star.

A quasar.

Something compelling evokes infinite something drastic disillusions hallows.

Past the point of inspiration far beyond exhausted fears, nihilistic contamination endemically engineered.

Chill in the garden. Keep chillin' in the garden. The plants grow, nurture, conserve, bustle. There's a celebration of life inasmuch as it flourishes. Why not dig something, play? Comment? Construct? Observe? Sparrows. Leafy green bouquets. Chomp chomp. Chatter. Stretch.

New birth.

Regenerative life.

Space child infinitesimally engrossed caught up waylaid.

Through no fault of their own were they locked up inside, in test tubes of ambient Jekyll & Hyde, lost in the galaxy stars set adrift, with freedoms inherent, candidly pitched.

Elaborate databases.

Books.

Perhaps.

Monte's (Robert Pattinson) devotion.

Travelling forever through astronomical climes, a unique descriptive vocabulary characterizing understated variation.

Like the Inuit describing snow.

Proust delineating obsession.

Interplanetary lullabies.

Velveteen moons.

Remarkably original unsettling independent sci-fi, creating its own unique codes, as if it was extraterrestrially conceived, born of the abstract candelabra.

Keep an open mind.

And proceed with caution.

Strange film.

Solemn incarcerated imagination.

André Benjamin (Tcherny) stands out.

Inhumanwich!

Global annihilation, voraciously presenting itself as conscious highly radioactive ground beef, sets out to capitalistically aggrandize, or plain and simply gluttonously devour.

Cincinnati unassumingly resting upon its sloppy path, a team of reluctant scientific heroes spontaneously joes to whopperifically flame-broil.

Lovin' every single carcinogenic prostate sizzle, heavily armed militaristic imprecision must recklessly engage, unable to determine if it can leave a lasting impression, it randomly improvises, and cartographically refills.

Only one person, in the known universe, can withstand the demon's exacting crawl, a mild-mannered limitless consumer, once, vocationally renowned.

Allergic to onions though he may be, willingly accepting his herculean labour, proceeding as would a wild boar possessing tusks of immortality, he eternally embraces his bold ephemeral hunger.

With room left over for pizza.

Covered with anchovies of old.

Sometimes it isn't fair to judge a film based upon merit, success, ingenuity, exoneration, originality, genius, appetite, intergalacticity, gumption, nope, sometimes a minimalist application of spirited inanity is the crucial critical factor to be haphazardly applied, whether the film has a low budget, a lack of concern, no goals, passion, agenda, rules, regulations, form working hand in hand with content inasmuch as it's quickly thrown together to castigate lacks of foresight, fast food or meat consumption in this instance, effort, yes, there might be effort, and the trick may be to indubitably judge if the film was effortlessly made or cheaply constructed, a beautiful thing or bilious impulse, perhaps simply a two day old baguette, tart treacle, meat that passes the smell test, or healthy yet aggravating nicorette gum, whatever the criteria, its bombastic sentience irresponsibly euthanizes audacity, while emphasizing bromantic good times, or feminist bewilderment.

Perhaps also indestructibility.

Bamboozled in boisterous fey jocose panini, wisecracked inherent impediments exclaim gargantuan folio.

Did they at least fail to attempt to innovate in any way while confidently transmitting an unreasonable lack of sophistication?

Did they at least refuel the status quo with disingenuous yet hearty absurd incredulous compunction?

Did they not even try to give everything they've got without seeming hopelessly and aimlessly incompetent?

I'd watch it again, regardless, if that means anything, this pan-fried indigestible Inhumanwich!

A bit more time and money and they might seriously impress some day.

Solid indistinct blunt metaphorical mischief.

Still much better than The House.

Midnight vegetarianism?