Pick 43: Slick Flick Pick: Westernized to Cannibalized--An Infection, Bisection, Unnatural Selection and a Westward Direction (Where There's a Wilson, There's a Way); (Bone Tomahawk, 2015)

Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me westernized, cannibalized, stabbing both westward and any upright bipedal who stands in their way, bisecting and dissecting pleasure of ushering you through the cracked, dusty and dried ground, blood-soaked, cave fire stoked and subsequent crime scene after their precious grave site is disturbed and provoked, this is a slow burning slick flick that a little past midway becomes a stomach-churning, panic-inducing, potboiler, the violence is blunt and extreme, and you will surely want to scream, but if you tell yourself it is not a real nightmare, rather a cinematic dream with a shock and awe theme, you will remind yourself that things are not as brutal and unforgiving as they seem, but I am on your team and it is my pleasure esteem to this flick redeem by gifting you this shocking, sensational, stupendous, scary, superior western/horror hybrid treat of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main tomahawked and scalped forehead vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You're my Cinematic Fanatics; I, your worthwhile f****** cinephile. For your 43rd episode, my bicolor compadre, Othello, and I review one of our most feared, appreciated and applauded western genre entries of yore with a terrifyingly torturous twist in the Kurt Russell compendium of solid work: a bleak, haunting, menacing, gorgeously shot and choreographed, excruciatingly well-acted and written with proficient pacing and a cathartically pleasing conclusion to the terrors that befall a town and the quartet who rides, then walks then sacrifices much to save those who were, mostly all, abducted, imprisoned, bisected and eaten, this is a flick that does not pull its trogfuc**** punches, the question still lingers, which of our human cast will end up these savages' godd*** lunches? Enter, with me, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy while we unwind the grind of reality… I offer you: Pick 43: Slick Flick Pick: Westernized to Cannibalized--An Infection, Bisection, Unnatural Selection and a Westward Direction (Where There's a Wilson, There's a Way); (Bone Tomahawk, 2015). Today, we discuss-- the dangers of trusting anyone mofo who approaches your camp in a furtive manner in the dark, the brilliance, economy and utility behind using a string of bells configuration as an unsophisticated aural trip flare, the savageness yet undeniable likability of Matthew Fstars Fox and hoping to Christ he outFoxes the troglodytes, the constant and repeated desire to see Albert Swearengen make an appearance wielding his long blade knife and wicked wordplay that cuts even deeper, the gruesomeness of the violence in the cave contrasted with the gentle way in which Samantha rides her broke leg hubby and the forseeable and unforeseeable dangers associated with drinking from a flask. - Your worthwhile cinephile: Eyes like a hawk, wit sharp as a trog killing tomahawk-Falsetto Prophet P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla. F.C.F.U. Fact-Check Follow up: Everything I Touch by Stabbing Westward is the referenced song's name. Also, I called it Little Hope repeatedly when it is in fact Bright Hope.