Review of the movie Joker (2019)

A somewhat harsh review, but, as I've eaten a a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios today, I should be excused. (By now, everyone knows the widely reported effect Honey Nut Cheerios have on the "Incredulous Hulk hormone" which transforms passively apathetic impulses into aggressively honest impulses--save the group of wheat farmer subsidized cereal researchers who haven't fully ruled out two percent milk stored in asbestos-lined cans or over sized lead spoons as root causes.)

 ***Spoiler Alert ***

Joker was a lame story, propped up only by the dancing scenes of the grotesquely misshapen lead character. 

That anyone in the theater thought the attractive young mother slept with Arthur Fleck without throwing up a bit as he slithered out of his shirt, exposing shoulders shaped like animated bundles of tightly knotted marine rope in skin bags hand sewn by Buffalo Bill, strains credulity. The attempt to Beautiful-Mind the audience was half baked and left a taste like under cooked shrimp.

The second movie in the Unbreakable trilogy, Split, was a far better dive into the broken psyche of a regular lunatic's dark slide into murdering lunatic.


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