All I want to do now is eat tuna. TUNA.
The trailer for this movie dramatically oversells the film.
There's something Fight Club-y about this, and not in a good way.
Not quite a coming-of-age story but a nice bit of autobiography nonetheless.
I hate everything this movie chooses to be.
I think I'd like Tim Burton's recent work more if he revisited stuff like this once in a while.
Trafficks on the sensation it claims to abhor, which seems a little disingenuous.
As Principal Scudworth says, it's like eating in the private kitchen of a delightful Italian stereotype!
Why, oh why, is everything filled with rape?
Sorry, I can't not love this subject matter.