What follows is a story that oscillates between effusive nonsense and a kind of half-hearted socio-political consciousness, a mixture of resentment against amoral technofascist blockheads, fascination with their posers houses and a slightly perverted obsession with model-actress-whatever -guys may not actually be on the verge of the legal age of consent, but they are made up and costumed in such a way that they are reminiscent of a barely pubescent anime waif or lolita. Krug and Monaghan, I’m sorry to say, are terrible, although it’s hard to blame them in whole or in part, given the lumps of the script and the director’s seeming inability to steer into a skid and produce a glorious wreck film , the friendly audience cheers happily, even though they know they’re stupid.

A lot of the problems revolve around whether you’re watching the kind of movie that cares about believable psychology or one that cares no less. It addresses the plight of Sky’s roommate…



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