This examination of the fractured state of American resistance rouses and frustrates in equal measure.
At the outset, the worship of female teen idols by salarymen in Japan’s otaku culture seems like organized pedophilia.
If the Russian tourism board is working on a campaign to convince foreigners to drop by, rent a car, and see the countryside, it should probably move on to another idea.
The deeper director-host Ovidie goes in search of the Octopus, the murkier and scarier it gets.
There is probably no more depressing place on Earth: brothels, set in crumbling buildings, surrounded by mountains of garbage.