V for Vendetta

Have you ever eaten three hamburgers, six hotdogs, a fried fish, a few bags of Doritos, drank a few Dr. Peppers and pints of Guiness, and had a wad of cotton candy for desert? I have.

Koko: Does a movie that casually acknowledges its plagiarism from other, better movies earn a more enlightened incarnation in the next life? No, it comes back exactly as it is, repeating its mistake indefinitely like a poor man's eternal return, smiling its stupid Guy Fawkes grin until the last sad, human life on Earth is extinguished and this bombastic comic book noise beams emptily between the stars, transmitting our bad taste to even the most distant civilization, which, after receiving the broadcast, will immediately collapse.

Deepest regrets to Guy Fawkes, whose xenophobic religious nuttery, for the purposes of Hugo Weaving's plastic goatee, seems to have metamorphosed into some kind of nonspecific liberal heroism. A penny for the old guy.