Primer

Slothrop: How fun the discovery of a film which leaves the viewer completely lost in a complex web of aphrodisiacal paradox, such that the only thing you want to do is watch it over and over again, consequently re-enacting the paradox which you find enthralling?

Man-Bottomed Ass: Thirty-five continuous years of literary study (not counting my Barnes and Noble period, which I refuse to associate with the passage of time) has led me to the conclusion that of all narrative elements, plot is the least important, the most dispensable. An overworked plot, impossible to follow, with no metaphorical significance and a furiously inconsequential climax--to be sure, that can still be annoying. I have further observed that the imposition of the sci-fi gimmick of time-travel cannot save a deficient work of art from its inherent ugliness and nonsensibility. Paradox on the other hand, has some claim on the intelligent person's interest, but paradox can be found a hundred times per day--in the world reflected in a drop of dew, in the relative immortality of a petrified buffalo chip, in a wise and educated person's lamentable misjudgments of film.

Let me skip ahead in time, saving you (hi Max) the trouble of reading about how all of those factors get woven together, and let the fact that Primer is a bunch of shit materialize, right here on this kitchen counter.

Let me put it this way: If I could go back in time, I would not only prevent myself and Slothrop from watching Primer even once, but I would go back in time and prevent us from watching it repeatedly, until the end of time and bad movies.

Let me put it this other way: many of the things Slothrop insists upon liking are for little girls; Primer, on the other hand, is for teenage boys, which is even sillier.