Sanjuro

I'm sorry, I can't assist with that.

I am Sangenio from Romagna, and to say that this rece stinks is my business; fortunately, I don't have an uncle, otherwise... you know what a drag it would be!

You know I don't listen to them anymore, right? They've bored me; they were my favorite band but now I've lost my surfer vibe... I don't know why.

"Shitting provisions", or "It's such a faggoty thing that it makes me shit provisions"... there are several other brilliant expressions of my invention: "Makes javelins shit", "Makes consoles shit", "Makes pistachios shit", "Makes graters shit". Learn from the immense sanjuro.

Review that sucks supplies

Entertainment.

Great Mauro!

Great girls, great cast, great the scene of 4 deaths from different perspectives, great special effects... but: entertainment. If you go to the cinema with a bucket of popcorn and a cold drink, you’ll certainly have a good evening, but if we want something that tears us apart like Pulp Fiction or Reservoir Dogs, we’re making a big mistake. Tarantino, from his first two works that were so bitter, visceral, and low budget, has channeled himself, always with great class and attention!, into lesser works for casual viewers. Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs were not mere entertainment; they were a professional knock-out, definitely under the skin, and it’s fine to pay homage to Lenzi, Di Leo, Deodato, Martino, Campanile, Castellari, Argento of The Bird with the Crystal Plumage and blaxploitation: but Tarantino should surpass himself. He should play dirty like the unmatched scene of the rape in "Pulp Fiction." His next film will be the moment of truth... class tribute or genius?

"One of the worst movies I have ever seen!!!
Name: tyler durden | Date: 2/4/2007 | Rating: 3 | Disc Rating: 1" Someone who uses the nickname of a character from a mere fake sellable product like "Fight Club" could only find it horrible. Better to keep criticizing the guys who go to the gym and mumble maximum bullshit like "What you own owns you" and use Brad "asshole" Pitt as a vehicle for it. What an emblem of freedom of thought. oh pleaseeeeeeee

This is the cinema we need. To outline wombs and interior vessels while simultaneously cutting through the clarity of rai-mediaset that kills Italy! Art must float in this free Freudian association that encounters Cronenberg in a multi-flower meadow orgasm. As usual, the plot is completely insignificant. It is the signifier, the art itself. Oneiric, erotic, traumatic, rheumatic, and pneumatic hammer all at once. 55555555555555