If there is anything good about seeing this masterpiece, it is the discovery that even painted things can be physiologically disgusting.
Whether I'm getting old or I've felt a personal dislike, Baskova's films left a much more pleasant aftertaste.
The purest exploitative movie, where the plot is less than in the porn about plumbers, and there is so much self-irony that it stops working.
Researching everything in a row in the collections sometimes allows you to know yourself better. I can’t even imagine the target audience of such products.
In times of sadness and despondency, watching such things can certainly distract from problems, but you can engage in escapism by turning to something better.