Christmas on Mars

That sweet spot where you've done an awful lot of drugs but not quite too many drugs. That spot where, if you're livelihood is up on stage, ABOVE the people as it were, you feel that you can and should do whatever you want. The kind of spot a narcissist lives rather comfortably in.

These vanity projects are always hit or miss. It's better, of course, if someone with a handle on things (like directing) comes to you first. Like they did with Pee Wee or Weird Al. Now, imagine if Tim Burton approached Wayne...

Well, that didn't happen. Instead, we get unfiltered Wayne Coyne. For the knuckle dragging, mouth breathing fan base, this will put them over the moon with lust and obsessive foaming at the mouth while frantically rubbing themselves with plush Wayne Coyne dolls. For the rest of us remotely curious, this freaking sucks.

An awful, directionless mess of a film. It's not even a music video! It just sucks. Cheap sets are fine... I love Ed Wood! But this is just bloated ego with nothing substantial to say beyond "keep giving me money".

Wow. Yeah, it's that bad.