Eneathedevil

Listen, I don't even know what you're talking about: it took just one click on the link and in front of anthropomorphic Donald Duck, the degenerate uncle of three toxic nephews in a Zen-like style, I can't conceive a rating lower than five stars. That's all.

Bufalino is entirely encapsulated in that parenthesis that traverses the places of birth and death: from Comiso to Vittoria, just a small piece of land in the Val di Noto where he remained practically throughout his life, tying his literary production to a distinctly Sicilian rootedness that his work exudes. It’s a pity that he only saw the poor cinematic adaptation of Diceria from 1990, so my knowledge of the work is alas limited to that meager product from three decades ago.
A review of the highest level, worthy of a literary magazine for its careful citation of sources and impeccable use of Italian.

Yes, but where is the other review?

I have never dwelled too much on my thoughts about good Ivan because I have always found his tone hard to digest, preferring others (another who faces the same fate for the same reason, for instance, is the equally talented Zenobi). Of course, this album deserves the success it has achieved.

@[Martello]: I clearly saw that you went on the review of Grasshopper, rating it with four svanziche. You committed an act of lèse-majesté (Grass was an authority here on Deb), for which you

Metaphysical speculations

Ah! It took the illustrious name of @[lector] to spark so much interest in the beloved Hardy, who, despite having also produced works under his own name, could have comfortably lived off the profits from the dazzling decade of the '70s, sequentially creating Meet the Residents, Duck Stab, the masterpiece Not Available, the obscure Eskimo, and the fabulous Commercial Album, in which he diligently squandered musical ideas and insights that could have comfortably filled four or five high-quality albums. From the '80s onward, critics have downplayed the subsequent output (indeed, Hardy and his associates have released decidedly too many albums at the expense of quality), but some records still carry a good dose of vitality (Gingerbread Man, Animal Lover).

The review honors Hardy's genius, using just the right number of words: in the face of such a complex reality as that of the Residents and their related satellites, it is impossible not to elaborate appropriately. I have the impression that no review on the site has ever focused on the clearly delineated elements in this exegesis, which seems primarily didactic, as befits a subject upon which an entire literature could be written. The only thing that leaves me a bit perplexed is the story of Senada, presumably drawn from N. Senada | Meet The Residents Wiki | Fandom (I believe that in general, these valuable wikis have been a source of inspiration for the review), which indeed speaks of the elusive Nigel Sinatra with the same information reported by @[lector], but honestly, there is no certainty about the existence of our character, and this biography seems like a charming conjecture, equally as fanciful as many of the Residents' creations. Yes, probably Senada/Sinatra is yet another of the imaginary characters that wander through our lives... who can say for sure.

Oh, what a lovely surprise to see a review of this gem of animation, with its drawings and themes so distant from the dominant productions of the time. Fortunately, I saw it as an adult, and it couldn't have been a happier choice, given the overwhelming and traumatic sense of tragedy that permeates the film's atmosphere throughout its development. The only exception is the spaced-out schizophrenia of the seagull Kehaar, the true hero of the film and a benign spirit who serves the rabbits in the name of brotherhood among animals. There is some hindrance.

Jenny, my first love from the late '90s when with ISDN the thumbnails on web pages took about ten minutes to load. Then it took another two or three minutes to download the photo. Just 5 florins for having remembered it on the thresholds of debaseriote.

Legendary film that I am careful not to watch due to its sordid reputation. @[Mirror's_Chest]: you forgot, or perhaps you intentionally left out, to mention the subtext, that is, the fact that the continuous sexual violence depicted on set would be an allegory for the government's oppression of the Serbian people. But given the reprehensible aesthetic of the product, as reported by a viewer, it seems to me to be a resounding load of nonsense.

A truly filthy review that shouldn't be read by Lucarelli. On my phone, the line that goes "I pretended not to hear and splashed" breaks to the next line, which for a fraction of a second made me fear an even more sheepish ending.
Ah, I don’t even know what music Deftones makes.