Beasts of the Southern Wild. Being dirt poor is fun and spiritually enriching, who knew ? Phoney crap, enraptured with its own sense of sub-Terrence Malick poetry, where people only converse in homespun wisdom (them black people sure do talks funny !) and where cartoonish stereotypes run amok without any sense of irony. Magic realism seldom works on film, here it comes across as precious and self-conscious. How do people fall for this rubbish ?
Next, my Criterion Blu-ray of Rosemary's Baby which arrived today, to gargle the bad taste away.