Adolph Hitler sits around a gloomy room in Hell. He dictates his memoirs. He watches home movies. He chats with his old buddies and cherubic German tykes. He fantasizes about women. He rambles on and on. And on. Every once in awhile Sigmund Freud drops in for a little psychoanalysis. I don’t know what’s more amazing: that someone got the budget to commit this to celluloid, or that they actually thought it would keep going for nearly two hours. See if desperate
Media criticism. Pop culture snark. And movie reviews. Lots and lots of movie reviews.
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