Before the horrible opening sequence even ended I was hoping for an atomic detonation to wipe out the entire plastic, bullshit town, and hopefully take out the filmmakers as bonus. The tone, the vapidity, the falseness, the obviousness, and the assault on intelligence did not portend pleasant experiences.
There is always a possibility that it was a setup, and that it might flip the script and become recognizable as tethered to the real world. Not the first scene, not the second, and her annoying voice-over continued its unfunny, unnecessary narration.
I imagined that Bad Moms was the type of material Guantanamo might play for captured Taliban, to break them. How much of this could I stomach? Smartly, I kept pausing its onslaught in order to articulate my disgust.
This was the strategy that pulled me through Cloud Atlas as well.
And so we continue…
Bad Moms is like a Perfect Storm
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