Roger Ebert has the best Facebook stream ever. He called this the most viscous and negative movie review he'd ever read.
A Fountain of Maggots: Rob Marshall's Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides | The House Next Door
I finally sat down to eat, and took my first bite. Then the second. I nibbled on a potato, I think, and had a spoon full of peas. Then I looked down, and, as I did, a strange sight caught my eye. Something was on the move on the left breast of the chicken.
I looked closer. And, there they were: Two ravenous maggots had crawled out of their cocoons of flesh, and were gently, yet hurriedly, traversing this vast expanse of food, harbingers of their ravenous brothers who were only just waking up. There's nothing more terrifying, to me at least, than looking at one's food, and seeing on it larval insects. I gagged. I gagged again. I threw out the food in the dumpster immediately, and took out the bag and dumped it in the skip outside my building. Then I made myself vomit for an hour. This, my friends, was one of the worst experiences of my life. Well, Rob Marshall's Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides was worse.
One of the worst films of all time, On Stranger Tides has absolutely and utterly no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I wanted to say it's like watching an enema, but even that's a good thing: you get rid of the filth. Instead, here, you are force-fed shit, then made to regurgitate it, and then eat it again. It's as if you were cloned, and the clones shared the same consciousness, and then were turned into the human centipede, but instead of three, this centipede is endless. It's not so much pain, though there's that, too, but, instead, nausea.
What can I say about it? There are pirates and movie stars and ships and mermaids and whatever. Something about the Fountain of Youth. I don't know. I don't fucking care anymore.