oh yeah… this one made my tummy fucking hurt.

i hope they show this film in acting school or whatever (you’re not allowed to graduate with a degree in tension until you can blink like jake gyllenhaal).

if i had a dollar for every time ang lee made me cry utilizing the gut-punching power of yearning, i’d have two dollars. it’s not a lot, but like, what the fuck is your problem, man?

gotta be honest, the only thing i’m going to be thinking about as i fall asleep tonight is the way matthew mcconaughey says “bullshit…” as he’s pushing kate hudson against that taxi.

a guy named “slater king” is literally destined to have a lotus flower island where he abuses women, like it might as well be rich people prophecy 101.

what were the jeans in this movie made of? divine intervention? were they stitched by angels?

you know how old men always watch late night spaghetti westerns, and therefore, coerce their grandchildren into enduring the same fate? yeah, okay, this is that for me. like, “here’s some popcorn kiddos, mamaw’s going to force ya’ll to watch men continuously suffer at the hands of felonious wlw.”

deliriously grand visuals, just wish i had, like, a few more seconds to appreciate anything before we moved on to another song & dance.

listen, rick o’connell forever has me squealing and kicking my feet… but i’d sacrifice my life for evelyn carnahan (please don’t read from that cursed egyptian book, queen, you’re so sexy aha).

do not cite the deep magic (self-important ‘grittiness’ of art) to me, witch (you pretentious asshole). i was there when it was written (on tumblr when i was thirteen).

‘the mistress of all evil’ is a title every woman should aspire to have

“why are you doing this to us?”
“because you were home.”

chills, chills, chills, chills, chills, like ew, shut up, i’m so fucking scared right now