Recensione di eminges

To grasp the concept of eternity, you don't need to know about mountains of diamond and tiny birds pecking at them till they wear down to a nubbin. All you need to do is sit down with Plutonium Baby, a pot of coffee, and a fresh package of $1.29 oatmeal cookies, and, trust me, you'll experience eternity. The coffee will be nothing but a stain in your cup, the oatmeal cookies will be nothing but crumbs, and Plutonium Baby will STILL be slowly, patiently, remorselessly unreeling on your screen.

Characters wander onto the set, they wander off, things happen, a whole new movie starts about two-thirds of the way into the tape; yes, there's a radioactive Muppet Baby, yes, there's people preserved in drums of radioactive waste for a decade, yes, some doof decides he just has to use a drum of radioactive waste for a beer cooler, yes, at one point there's three unrelated parties of armed men wandering around in the Jersey woods looking for the Nuclear Kid. But you just don't care. You can't make yourself care.

I'm told there's a bet that you can't lose, no matter how drunk the individuals involved are: simply bet a guy any amount of money he can't eat a pound of butter in an hour, and keep it all down. In the same vein, I'd almost be willing to bet that a sane person could not sit, unrestrained, in a metal folding chair in front of Plutonium Baby and watch the whole thing straight through without falling asleep or getting up to purge.

I'd like to watch it again and see if I could isolate the elements that make this hog so completely unwatchable, but no force on earth could make me go through this a second time.