Final (Vol. 2) by Enrique Iglesias
A lukewarm adios from pop’s sleepy señor.
A lukewarm adios from pop’s sleepy señor.
Long title, but short of excitement.
Is this a Marvel-ous misfire or magical mayhem?
A toxic love story that puts modern melodramas to shame, Wuthering Heights still haunts us.
She… she… she’s really having sex with a triceratops.
A cinematic disaster that’s neither shark nor attack, just dead in the water.
This story feels like it’d been rushed out within a few days.
Here’s another heroine that has no plan B but insists loudly that she’s fine.
A fowl play in more ways than one.
Urban legends meet bad CGI in a beautiful disaster of Syfy proportions.