The Two Popes

The Two Popesⁱ is a sad, atrocious misery of a film.ⁱⁱ A more inappropriate display is scarcely conceivable, imagine if you will a Ratzinger, the astute theologian who was, for most of his life, the principal intellectual force within the Catholic Church, depicted here as a dodgering moron, about as ready with words as your average retired plumber. Imagine a Ratzinger who somehow has nothing more to say, nor better way to say it than what a bunch of barristas could set to paper ; and meanwhile the actually retarded, as intellectually barren as his native Pampas misdepictedⁱⁱⁱ as some sort of inspired, inspiring and altogether heroic character (with a strong, repulsive sheen of that particular ustaridanism^iv caked on, to complete the polish of the turd).

Not only is it an atrocity beyond compare, it's also ineptly spoken in languages! Hopkins can't do Italian, I mean sure, he tries, he does it passibly as his profession and craft can ever possibly demand, but... it ain't anywhere close to what the educated elder gentleman's Italian sounds like, the reverberating, self aware flow of syllabic syrup... Hell, most Italians bred out of Italian mothers on the Italian peninsula don't manage and haven't managed in centuries beyond memory. Most. Yet all princes of the Church, all without exception, did so manage. You see ?

I doubt you do, but anyways, neither Hopkins nor anyone involved can do Latin, which I suppose is appropriate if painful, seeing how nobody in America can do Latin either, nor for that matter anyone on "social media" whatever latrine (though the original Ratzinger did, and made them do, and...). If crabs made a film about masturbation, there'd be a lot of clicking and pinching, and not so much rubbing in masturbation, right ? And in the same vein, all the "Argentines" speak exactly not like Argentines and very much like the Spanish of Almodovar's flea circus, all the transvestites, prostitutes, "cooks" and "nurses" in the menagerie come to life as the retarded chemist and his period^v entourage.

There's really no excuse for this porcheria having ever been made ; its presence makes me regret the days of the Junta, when all these intolerable schmucks'd have been tortured and killed for it. Bring back the Junta, I say, rather than a "reformed" church to better match a pantsuit-imaginary world just bring back the fucking junta and choke them all in their own blood. It'll be slightly more expensive, it's true, but honestly the past months of depopulated urban spaces and muzzled peons have done a lot to prove the point : if the world's extras were mass-massacred, the world would suffer no visible damage, and would gain immensely in all respects.

Kill these "people".

1. 2019, by Fernando Meirelles, with a very senescent Anthony Hopkins (who is, nevertheless, absolutely the only reason this trite bit of peplum makes the remarkably undemanding cut of being discussed here). [↩]
2. If you're noticing the similarity with the previous one, it's because... well... there is a lot of it. You know, the odorous, feculent it, amply supplied by each as well as the both of them. [↩]
3. Particularly infuriating -- the ready lifting of one man's garments to "decorate" the other. It was fucking Ratzinger who had been trying to retire for twenty years at the point of his election, to go back to his little village and "write books", or to go into the Apostolic Archive and never be heard from again ; but his pope wouldn't assent. [↩]
4. There's a certain spirit, if not necessarily "of jacobinism" then certainly of ustardianism, yielding very particular forms on an absolutely stable skeleton. It's the guy, the "playful", humourlessly, deliberately "playful" dude, smiling his pedosmile out of place, the ideal dude animating a certain kind of behaviour and relation to the world uniting the "futurists" from the pedo "inventing"/promoting wikipedia to the pedo "inventing"/promiting ipads to that dumb bald fuck you wouldn't have ever heard about if it weren't for Trilema. They're different from the pantsuit riff-raff, or at least distinguishable ; they're a large majority of the truebeliever socialist, though mostly the disavowing, "ironic", arms-length subset. They're the "clever" but "ironic" little Davids (in their own minds) "fighting" "successfully" "the corporate Goliath" (in their own mind) through you know, little things, not wearing a tie most anally, to everyone's exasperation, so they've showed you! Ha-HA!!! They're the "transhumanist" and "endless life", they're the shaved-bald-in-a-pantsuit strand of contemporary idiocy -- and I very much wouldn't trust them near any children. Speaking of which, I find the circumstance whereby the erstwhile "santa romana chiesa" was undone by its own invention, san francisco's weapon of mass societal destruction of "oh noes, the childrens, the childrens" bla bla bla concern trolling... of course it's pretty, but this film does it very little justice. [↩]
5. They did put a ficus tree in there, which looks very much exactly Buenos Aires, but otherwise the thing's pretty meh... the actor hired to do young chemist retard can't even tango, notwithstanding that's like half of what he's been hired to project in the first place, some local flavour. Then again I suppose it's true the Argentines don't tango either, contrary to mendacious nonsense you might've otherwise heard. [↩]