
Sometimes I tell friends to watch things that are awful. It’s harder if the only recommendation I have is, “No, you can’t imagine how bad it is until you see it.” It gets more awkward if it’s something I found during one of my down-the-rabbit hole Netflix fugue states, where I snap out of it the next day and realize I’ve watched seven movies, each worse than the last, until I nearly rewatched Blood of Beasts, a “Viking” Beauty and the Beast story where the only part that ever stays with me is where she offers to help her bear-suit captor wash up by pressing a damp washcloth gingerly to his shoulder three times, the end.…