Remember when Taylor Swift was a non-political performer who just did her job by entertaining people?
Well, those days are long gone. Swift came out of the “political closet” and declared her allegiance to the progressive globalists.
And since that time, Taylor has been having a rough go of it – none of the candidates she’s endorsed have won, she lost her entire music library thanks to George Soros, and her first big feature film has bombed so badly at the box office that most critics have already placed it at the top of their “worst movies of 2019” list.
Taylor Swift is feeling the ramifications of the #TrumpCurse.
The reviews for her movie “Cats” are brutal and the “rotten” response from viewers is atrocious; garnering a horrific 17% on its Tomatometer and a sub-par 59% audience score.
The movie is absolutely a catastrophic failure.
Taylor Swift said she decided to take on the role because she wanted to work with the “best” people.
Well, the “best” people have helped Taylor achieve the most momentous failure of her career.
The movie is so bad, that one reviewer compared it to a litter box and a hairball.
Attention, moviegoers searching for the worst movie of the year: We have a late-breaking winner. Cats slips in right under the radar and easily scores as the bottom of the 2019 barrel — and arguably of the decade. Even Michael Bay’s trash trilogy of soul-destroying Transformers movies can’t hold a candle. What happened?
Wasn’t the stage production of Cats — music by Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyrics by poet T.S. Eliot — an award-winning smash from Broadway to Tokyo? It was. But in this all-star, all-awful screen version, directed by Tom Hooper (The King’s Speech’s, Les Miserables), everything that should work goes calamitously wrong. The first trailer earned hisses on social media. The full movie, inert and as indigestible as a hairball, is much, much worse.
Talent is misused all through the film: There’s Sir Ian McKellan as Gus the Theater Cat, singing of his lost youth; Idris Elba as Macavity, the monster of depravity; and — God help her — Taylor Swift as Bombalurina, his accomplice in crime. Hooper traps the actors in an airless, lifeless bubble of a film that scarcely gives them room to breathe, much less develop a character. Instead, he misguidedly covers them in digital fur and bizarre makeup.
Let the sheer grinding monotony of Cats stand as a measuring stick for future cinematic takes on Broadway musicals that hope to match its unparalleled, bottom-feeding dreadfulness. In his prize-winning Angels in America, playwright Tony Kushner wrote a scene in which the rat-bastard lawyer Roy Cohn is on the phone sucking up to a client who wants tickets to a Broadway smash. When the caller says, “Cats,” Cohn sticks his fingers down his throat and mock vomits. Look for that gesture to be repeated by all who must endure this hellish fiasco of a film version. This disaster of a movie shouldn’t happen to a dog. [Rolling Stone]
This couldn’t have happened to a more deserving celebrity.
Taylor Swift sold out her loyal fans who appreciated her for keeping her politics to herself and respecting the people that bought her records and attended her concerts. She sold them all out to please the anti-Trump Hollywood globalist elites so she could land herself in a big production movie.
And that movie was a colossal flop.
Hope it was worth it.
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