The strangest thing about Michael Flatley's 90-minute animated selfie is how dated it is. A sort of action-free action remake of Casablanca is one thing, but Flatley hasn't moved on (in 2018) from servile magic black men, skinny women whose job is simply to appear nearly naked, high-stakes Texas hold'em (ffs that was old in 1999), and indeterminately Middle Eastern bad guys.
Eric Roberts can't seem to manage his teeth, the hotel singer cannot speak intelligibly - I don't think this is a disability-opportunity casting - and never mind Flatley's stupid hats; he must have been measured for his clothes before a particularly self-indulgent Christmas.
Like Claude Rains channelling William Shatner as depicted by George Galloway.
If it was fast-moving, it might be approaching hilariously bad, but it's slower than a wer Sunday in Rosscarberry.
Eric Roberts can't seem to manage his teeth, the hotel singer cannot speak intelligibly - I don't think this is a disability-opportunity casting - and never mind Flatley's stupid hats; he must have been measured for his clothes before a particularly self-indulgent Christmas.
Like Claude Rains channelling William Shatner as depicted by George Galloway.
If it was fast-moving, it might be approaching hilariously bad, but it's slower than a wer Sunday in Rosscarberry.
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