This movie was craptacular. I was so emotionally uninvolved in every single character that the movies' biggest antagonist was, in fact, myself. I played it beautifully throughout; promising myself I would walk away, but only drinking another beer hoping it would auto-magically transform into something engrossing along the way. Even in this state, I couldn't help but notice that Cuba's acting was as flimsy as tracing paper. His obsessive dedication to his job was unconvincingly done as well as his one night binge after the failure of his own idiot standards. Burt came on the screen as a General, that's right, a General (who wears too much makeup). I fell into a frighteningly fast binge to rival Cuba's, except mine was real and I stubbed my toe. Recompense! Recompense my stubbed toe!
Review of End Game
