"In the age of free love, everything has a price." A tear-jerky. Pseudo-feminist melodrama about “ordinary people’ (i.e. bored rich socialites in Liberty City) having cowardly affairs, doing coke in disco boots, getting divorced and fighting for custody of their over-privileged, one-dimensional children in the 1970s. "An American Divorce" won lots of awards because it captured the Zeitgeist of a decade that completely threw in the towel on moral responsibility and musical taste. After an hour and a half of watching upper-middleclass white people with enormous afros weep in Algonquin cafes and spurting mawkish dialogue like "But my kids are my life!" and "It’s time I did something for myself!", the inevitable happy ending can't come fast enough. We won’t ruin it for you, but everyone dies,
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| - "In the age of free love, everything has a price." A tear-jerky. Pseudo-feminist melodrama about “ordinary people’ (i.e. bored rich socialites in Liberty City) having cowardly affairs, doing coke in disco boots, getting divorced and fighting for custody of their over-privileged, one-dimensional children in the 1970s. "An American Divorce" won lots of awards because it captured the Zeitgeist of a decade that completely threw in the towel on moral responsibility and musical taste. After an hour and a half of watching upper-middleclass white people with enormous afros weep in Algonquin cafes and spurting mawkish dialogue like "But my kids are my life!" and "It’s time I did something for myself!", the inevitable happy ending can't come fast enough. We won’t ruin it for you, but everyone dies,
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| - "In the age of free love, everything has a price." A tear-jerky. Pseudo-feminist melodrama about “ordinary people’ (i.e. bored rich socialites in Liberty City) having cowardly affairs, doing coke in disco boots, getting divorced and fighting for custody of their over-privileged, one-dimensional children in the 1970s. "An American Divorce" won lots of awards because it captured the Zeitgeist of a decade that completely threw in the towel on moral responsibility and musical taste. After an hour and a half of watching upper-middleclass white people with enormous afros weep in Algonquin cafes and spurting mawkish dialogue like "But my kids are my life!" and "It’s time I did something for myself!", the inevitable happy ending can't come fast enough. We won’t ruin it for you, but everyone dies, thank God.
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