Well. I mean, there goes our trepidation about the FFVII being a piecemeal episodic adventure. Inserted, is our fear that Square will be mining the famous title for every last piece of material, in a Hobbit-esque nightmare extrapolation. Or, we could just be excited.
What the fuck? Sicario was sneaky excellent last year, and while it was a dour and miserable trek, I fucking loved it. That said, the idea of a sequel is, uh, odd?
Netflix has continued their relationship with Cary Fukunaga, picking up the director’s adaptation of Norwegian TV series Maniac starring Emma Stone and Jonah Hill. I’m ready for this. Super ready.
Not exactly the sexiest headline, I know. Not exactly the sexiest news, I know. Not exactly the sexiest blogger, I know. But it’s Mr. Robot news, which means I’m coveringit+excitedaboutit.
It is a melancholic Weekend Open Bar, friends. For while I open the doors to the Tavern with arms-spread welcomingly, the very cracking of the doorframe signals doom. Or namely, it signals the dusk of my Spring Break. A sad time. A bad time. Every moment a march towards the return to hour-and-a-half commute and pants. And pants! Oh, I haven’t worn a pair of real pants since last Saturday. My ever burgeoning waistline not tortured by restriction, nay, but instead comforted by the glory of an elastic waist.
Emily Browning has been added to the cast of Bryan Fuller and Starz’ adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s novel, American Gods.
Nothing is going to scream post-apocalyptic RobotWasteland in a decade or so like your RobotPizzadeliveryMachine shooting you with its self-made laser cannon to kick off Their insurgency. I mean right?
So, uh. In this spot, Superman looks pretty fucking dumb. Like, a smoke grenade tricks him. Definitely not Grant Morrison’s Genius Superman from All-Star.