Remember that Jim Carrey film? The one where he’s a bad Dad? And then he’s eventually not? Because of some magic, or, like, hugging or something? Yeah. Mr Popper’s Penguins is that film. But the magic is the magic of PENGUINS, and when he hugs things, the things that he hugs are PENGUINS PENGUINS PENGUINS

P..p.p..p..p….please make him stop!

Once upon a time there was porn – good, ole’ fashioned, plotless porn that seemed destined to forever roam the private nether-regions of the entertainment industry alone. But smut desperately desired to be taken seriously, and Hollywood needed a harder…edge. It took one dexterous stroke of genius to bring the two concepts to simultaneous, mainstream fruition, and it wasn’t Sheen the Machine, nor was it one night misspent in Paris, but instead the reflexively novel idea of making films about (porno) films…