Titanic: The Legend Goes On

Hydrogen: Women and children first, last, and always.

Trillaphon: "Well, we could easily pull you onto our nearly empty lifeboat, just like we did the small child you were holding two seconds ago, but, on the other hand, fuck you."

Hydrogen: I'm dying of suspense waiting to find out whether he gets saved by a flying narwhal, a rocket-powered sea turtle with a net, or a giant squid with a heart of gold.

Trillaphon: I was hoping it'd be Somalian pirates who kidnap him and press him into a life of torture and homoerotic servitude, but him and his weird fish lips just get found floating on a crate by one of the other lifeboats, somehow (even though they all already sailed away and left him to drown). Booooring.

Hydrogen: That is exponentially duller than being saved by magical dolphins and giant talking cephalopods, and yet it's somehow also even dumber. Which just about sums up this whole movie, come to think of it.

Hydrogen: There's no possible way to parse her mother's story that isn't bugfuck insane. Let's see, option 1 is that she was kidnapped by evil lady, who then left a bank account number with her parents, which they just happily paid into without ever going to the police or anything.

Hydrogen: Option 2 is that her mom really did know where she was, but going on a pleasure cruise was way higher on her list of priorities than visiting her long-lost daughter.

Trillaphon: Option 3 is of course that she's just a much crappier and more olive-smelling cartoon facsimile of the infamously punchable Old Lady from the shitty live action Titanic, who also by crazy coincidence happens to be a time traveling renegade sent back from the future with some ridiculous horseshit cock-and-bull story about bank accounts and oversized novelty jewels to prevent herself from realizing the horrifying truth that Mr. Fish Lips is secretly also a time-traveling renegade and her father from an alternate timeline where she actually had sex with him unlike anyone else ever has and accidentally became her own mother in the process, thereby breaking the feedback loop of events both caused by and leading up to the catastrophic abomination of her own birth and inadvertently creating an even more twisted web of completely nonsensical temporal paradoxes and sentences so squash-fuckingly run-on that they will rip apart the very fabric of space-time, sending the entire universe hurtling endlessly down a long blurry hallway full of antique clocks for all eternity The End.

Hydrogen: That option is supposed to make all the pores on your face start oozing some kind of weird, blackish sci-fi-grade blood with tiny fragments of brain matter in it all over your desk and keyboard, right?

Trillaphon: Oh definitely.

Hydrogen: OK, good.

Trillaphon: But before we pass out from that and slip into the sweet release of our cataleptic comas, let's not gloss over the big reveal at the end that the man she fell for on this boat was raised by her mother as more or less her replacement daughter. It's basically like she's fucking her own brother, except it's even worse somehow, maybe because it's also like her mother is fucking her brother, and by the transitive property her own mother fucking her, while also being her own mother, and GNNNNGKinkllhjionm'klQ#%Het=9o--i]0--]-]--0[pppp;';.;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Hydrogen: Well, guess I'm on my own now.

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Hydrogen: God damn, I hate this movie. I never thought I'd long for another Tentacolino sequel, but that would be an improvement over this. If Legend of the Titanic was a bad acid trip, this is an evening of toxic mushroom-induced nightmare diarrhea on the garage floor, occasionally stopping to scrape up some cigarette ashes, roll them up and smoke them.

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Hydrogen: Til next time, folks!

– Garrett "Hydrogen" Neil and Sean "Trillaphon" Neil (@trillaphon)