The difference between this film and others like it, though, is that it fills, and eventually overflows, with irrationality, causing
a strange overwhelming sense within the viewer.
Not exact matches
Perhaps the
overwhelming oddness of the position — the shadows of 1966, the constant scrutiny, the on - again, off - again calendar, the increasing irrelevance of international football when set against the all - consuming Premier League, the insistence from the FA that the England manager stand as some kind of moral paragon — drives those that inhabit it to do
strange things, to kick out against common
sense.
The only decent scene in the film (one that honours the cruelty and
sense of humour of the film's premise), of a girl vomiting up her fat after wishing to be thinner, is quickly
overwhelmed by the dead weight of unhelpful exposition,
strange inconsistencies, embarrassing line deliveries, and bald rip - offs of scenes from films like Silent Night, Deadly Night, The Unholy, and The Relic (they've even pilfered the tongue - chewing moment from the non-horror Midnight Express).