…and yet when it finally began streaming last weekend, I “forgot” to watch it. Because the reviews have been so shitty.
Friendo who watched it yesterday: “Eden is no one’s idea of good.”
HE: “Owen Gleiberman called it ‘terrible.’”
Friendo: “There’s a surreal scene in which Sydney Sweeney’s Margret Whitmer, all alone in a cave, goes into labor just as her cabin is being robbed by Ana de Armas’s boy-toy lovers.
“On the brink of birth a pack of dogs arrive and begin to attack Sweeney. Cut to the two robbers escaping with canned foods, and then just as the baby drops Sweeney screams at the dogs until a rescuer artives with a gun and starts shooting them. All of this happening at once — a scene that lasts nearly ten minutes. The dogs!”
HE: “My bad for not watching it. I knew it would give me annoyance and frustration, and my spirit wilted. But I’ll sit through it later today or tonight.”
The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars but in ourselves.
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