All language subtitles for Review with Forrest MacNeil - 02x04 - Cult; Perfect Body.WEBRip

Life... it's literally
all we have.

But is it any good?

I'm a reviewer,
but I don't review

food, books, or movies.

I review life itself.

Over here.

Welcome to Review.
Hello to you all.

And please, say "hello"
to A.J. Gibbs.

Hi, Forrest.
You look ready for a review.

And you look ready
to proffer one to me.

Ew.

Theo from Oklahoma City,
Oklahoma.

- Hmm.
- Hi, Forrest.

I've recently saved up
enough money

to open up my own
CrossFit gym.

So what's it like to be
a cult leader?

What's it like
to be a cult leader? Eek.

I think you'd be good
at that, Forrest.

I think you'd get a lot
of followers.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Huh, well would you
like to join my cult?

No.

Okay.

All right.

Oh, there's old Chuck Manson.

Always nice to see him.

I really don't understand
how these things work.

It's really very simple.

You find some
vulnerable people,

you isolate them,
you exploit them for money,

so on and so forth.
Rivers of blood.

Rivers of blood?
Good Lord.

Trust me, I have seen every
cult documentary ever made.

Lucille's dire assessment of cults

was certainly overblown,

but I did worry
about the possible impact

that this review could have
on my family life.

My girlfriend,
Mrs. Greenfield,

and I were happily
living together with my father

in his timeshare cottage,

an arrangement made necessary
after a fire

had tragically
destroyed his home.

It's such a lovely home
that you have here.

- It is.
- Uh-huh.

If we can just keep
Forrest out of the kitchen,

we'll be fine.

Oh, I see. Oh.

I get it, I get it,
I get it.

I burned down our other
house, cooking a meal.

Yeah. Yeah.

I feel like a walk.
Okay.

That night, as Mrs. Greenfield and I

expressed our growing love,

I puzzled over a message
to base my cult on.

And I found it in the stars.

Do you see those five stars
up there

in the shape of a letter M?

That's Cassiopeia.

Yeah, that's shaped like a W.

No, it's an M,
like MacNeil.

I feel like those stars
are shining right at us.

It's making me feel like...

we can lead
a five-star life.

Wow, that's really...
that's big stuff.

And, just like that,
I had my first follower.

But a good cult
needs more than two people.

We're out here today just
talking to people

about leading a five-star life.

I set out in search
of lost, sad people.

You can lead a five-star life.
It's possible.

And several of them
were willing to be found.

Guys, I think we're really
on the first steps

of an exciting and important
journey of self-discovery.

In truth,
there wasn't much to my message,

but there didn't need to be.

♪ One star is better
than half ♪

- ♪ Two stars better than one ♪
- ♪ One star's better than half ♪

I had offered a sense
of belonging,

and that was enough.

This cult was
a purely fun and positive experience.

And over the next couple
of weeks,

we attracted more and more
followers.

I trust you, you trust me.

One, two, three, four, five...
ah!

What a great feeling!

What do you say, Dad?
That's pretty cool, right?

Yeah, you can put me down.

These are great, aren't they?

As the days passed
and my little community

came to feel
more and more like a family,

I decided our utopia
was missing someone.

Hey, Dad.

I have a really
exciting idea, okay?

You seem pretty
lonely in here,

and something pretty
exciting is going on

just across the road
over there.

Uh...

Dad, don't you want
to lead a five-star life?

Yeah, um... I am worried.

You know, worried
is not the right word.

I'm wondering...

slash worried
that this might turn out

like the model-airplane
club sophomore year.

This isn't gonna be
anything like that, Dad.

For one thing, my followers
love me out there.

It was a low blow
for my father to bring up

my disastrous leadership
of Model Airplane Club.

Now I was determined
to prove to him

that I could lead a cult
as well as anyone.

I began following the wisdom

of cult leaders
who had succeeded before me.

First, I granted myself
the extraordinary power

of absolving the sins
of my followers.

Who else has a burden
to unleash?

I stole money from
the pension fund at work.

The stars absolve you!

One, two, three, four, five!

I cheated on my husband
with a total stranger.

The stars definitely
absolve you.

One, two, three, four, five!

I hit a homeless man
with my car,

and I just kept driving.

- Seriously?
- Yeah, I did.

The stars absolve you!

One, two, three, four, five!

My children,
I have taken your sins

and transgressions
and crimes,

and I have banished
them into the deep,

dark void of space.

We are free!

Then, to keep everyone
focused on me and being more like me,

I instituted a new uniform.

- Here.
- We have a new uniform!

And a reward system.

As you earn each level,

you will get a new piece
of clothing.

The first level
of achievement is shirts.

Th second level is pants.

Let's hope you get
to that one soon.

The third level is jacket.
The fourth level is tie.

And level five... the glasses
of enhanced sight.

And it was all working
beautifully.

Congratulations.
You've attained Shirt Level.

Two months into our time together,

the members
of my rapidly growing family

were beginning
to treat me like a messiah.

And I liked being a messiah.

Cosmic Father, this is all
I have in the world,

made out to you
in a cashier's check.

- Congratulations.
- Yes, indeed.

Cosmic Father,
it's my father's old watch.

You're my father now.

- One, two three...
- Four, five.

Rachel?

You haven't surrendered
your assets to the movement yet.

I just don't think I can,
Cosmic Father.

Well, I would hate
for anyone to find out

about the man that you
hit with your car.

A cashier's check
will be just fine.

One, two, three, four, five.

As time progressed,
my leadership of the cult

was going well... far better
than Model Airplane Club,

even on its best days.

The Universe has brought
us an H3T Hummer.

It's got a 5.3 liter V8 engine,
so it really hauls ass.

And it's ours!

I will keep the keys.

- One, two, three...
- Four, five.

And yet, there were problems.

There are a few followers
who are thinking about leaving.

What?
Thinking about leaving?

Yes, they've been
speaking about it amongst themselves,

- and they confided in me...
- How shall we punish them?

No, no, no, no.
We need to engage them

and help them move forward.

It might be easier
to punish them.

Perhaps we could dig a ditch.

- Okay, well...
- Do you have a better idea?

Maybe a special project.

That's what I did
when I had

special needs children
in my classes.

I will ruminate
on special projects

to engage the followers.

My beautiful Mrs. Greenfield

had provided me with
wise counsel.

We needed a new goal.

This is why, my friends,
we must build a great space ark

to conduct us into the stars!

- A space ark?
- A space ark!

Yes, indeed, my friends!

It may take years to build it,
but when it is complete

we shall leave
this dying planet

and we shall make
the stars our destination!

Ha ha ha!
Yes, yes!

- Mrs. Greenfield.
- Yes?

Why don't you
head up this project?

Will you organize it
and do all the work?

Absolutely.

This idea was obviously absurd,

but busy people
are happy people.

Let's gather together.

Does anyone know how
to get to space?

And Mrs. Greenfield,

who had left her job
as a teacher to be with me...

Was truly in her element.

But my difficulties
were not all behind me.

I'm really energized now.

It has been said that power

is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Many of my female followers
would need more than a space ark

to keep them invested
in my movement.

Yes, my child.

I am not proud of what
I had to do next.

Being a cult leader
had clearly gone to my head.

You're welcome, Devon.
It was my pleasure.

Sorry, I'm not really sure
how to feel about this,

- Cosmic Father.
- Feel about what?

You fellating
so many other women.

I encouraged
Mrs. Greenfield to channel any feelings

of jealousy into
the special project

that I had entrusted her with.

I'm making a real sacrifice
here, you know?

These girls would leave if I
didn't show them some attention.

- Uh-huh.
- Try to put yourself

in my place, okay?

I will, Cosmic Father.

This was,
in retrospect, a colossal mistake,

as I learned one week later.

Whoo!

Hey, hey, hey!

Hey, hey, hey!
What are you doing?

What is happening right now?

Whoo!

This ATM will help
us finance the space ark, huh?

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

Hey, hey, Mrs. Greenfield,
where did you get that gun?

I got it at Walmart.

Oh, God... no!

- Whoo!
- Absolutely not!

Absolutely no guns!
I forbid it.

- No, you can't do that.
- What do you mean?

Well, you're fifth level
and, as you can see,

I am sixth level.

- This is my movement...
- Not anymore.

What do you mean,
"not anymore?"

- Well, I'm above you.
- There is no sixth level!

You can't
go higher than six.

There's five levels!
Come on, guys.

Hey, let's get a bonfire going,
and we'll do some dancing.

- Come on.
- No, no, no.

She's sixth level,
and you're fifth level.

Holy [bleep], she's...
she's right.

- Six is better than five.
- Six is greater than five.

One, two, three...

Four, five, six!

Come on.

- I think you should go.
- No. No, no.

- You are outcast.
- Outcast!

No. I... I get that you're
kicking me out of the cult,

but are you
and I still gonna be?

No. No!

- Outcast.
- Outcast!

- Make way for the outcast.
- Outcast!

- No!
- I have a gun.

Outcast! Outcast!

- Begone!
- Outcast!

I was gonna
get a volleyball net!

- Outcast!
- That's a good idea.

We're gonna
get a volleyball net.

- I love that.
- One, two, three, four...

I am happy to say that
Lucille's predictions

of bloodshed
did not come to pass,

but the emotional trauma
of losing my new family

and my girlfriend
was pretty bad.

I had forgotten
the first rule of leadership...

know when
and where to delegate.

I had also forgotten
the first rule of cults...

never delegate.

- Just like Model Airplane Club?
- Yeah.

It was uplifting to briefly

feel like I was making
a difference in people's lives.

Giving them a purpose
and a space ark

they didn't have before,

but it hurt to have that joy

ripped out of my hands
and by a woman

I loved and trusted,
no less.

Perhaps the real lesson
here is that

not all who are lost
should be found.

Being a cult leader,
two stars.

One, two.

- I guess that's it.
- Yup.

It's time for a new review.
A.J., what'll it be?

It's from @kickitorlickit.

What's it like to have
a perfect body?

#review #question
#iwouldhitthat.

Well, I... I
think I understand

the first part of that,
anyway.

What's it like to have
a perfect body?

As a reminder,
Forrest is allowed to veto

two reviews this season.

Yes, that is true,

but this is not going
to be one of them.

I see what you're saying,
and I take it

as a personal challenge.

I am off to achieve
physical perfection.

The perfect body...

this was surely
a subjective judgement,

but by any standard,
I did not have one.

Oh, hi, Grant.

Hi, Forrest.

I thought the door
was locked.

Nope.

I started by joining
a spiffy downtown gym,

but I did not like
working out.

It was boring, and it hurt.

Plus, being surrounded
by all those mirrors

made me focus
on my many flaws.

Look at these teeth.

Do you see what I see?

A simple dental
prosthetic took care of that problem,

but it wasn't long
before I found another one.

My teeth
were now perfectly white,

but my skin was too white.

Fortunately, tanning salons
are easy to find.

My journey to perfection
was well under way.

But the cult that was living
on my dad's timeshare property

had gotten into the habit of
playing drums around a bonfire

late into the night,

and it was interfering
with my beauty sleep.

What the [bleep]
is going on here?

Stay right where you are,
Outcast.

We will not be moved!

- Yeah, that's fine...
- One, two-

Three, four, five, six!

Okay, that's fine.
That's fine.

I'm just really stopping by
to ask if you could please keep

it down a little bit at night?

You know, with the drumming?
You could be a little quieter.

What happened to your face?

Oh, I'm trying
to have the perfect body.

Uh, well, that's not
what it looks like.

It looks like
you're an orange beaver.

Oh, Mrs. Greenfield.

Let's not play
these little games.

Okay,
remove the non-believer.

- I want him off the property!
- All right!

- All right, all right.
- Get him!

My rapidly improving appearance

was clearly making
Mrs. Greenfield jealous,

and that gave me
all the encouragement

I needed to keep going.

Four, five, six!

One, two, three.

Being perfect from the neck up

didn't make it
any less of a nuisance

to become perfect
from the neck down.

I knew there had
to be an easier way.

We just lay the implant
in under the skin...

instant six pack.

Can I do it with
other muscles, too?

Like, with my arms
and my legs?

Why not?
And listen to this...

I'm having a special
on phalloplasty this month.

Really?
What is that?

That means I can give you
a really big penis.

How big
are we talking about?

Dr. Pirbal seemed to have

a magical shortcut
to perfection.

I opted to get
the full package.

Thanks to 40 pounds
of silicone muscle implants,

- and my new gigantic penis...
- Wow.

I was now a walking
work of art.

And others were taking notice.

Hello, Forrest.

Jesus [bleep] Christ.

Hey. What do you say?
Pretty good, right?

Well, it's, uh...

the penis is all right.

I like what
you did with that.

Thank you.

You look good,

but we're not looking
for a good body.

We're looking
for a perfect body.

A perfect body
means symmetry.

You've got
a long way to go.

Grant had a point.

My penis did turn out well.

I thought I was done.

But making my body perfect

would require more work.

My new implants certainly made me

appear to be in better shape,
but the added weight

of these artificial muscles

made exercise
extremely challenging.

I needed help,
and I found it in the form

of highly illegal
steroid injections.

After a few weeks of dosing,

I was noticeably stronger.

I was also consumed
with rage all of the time.

Hey, I want that.

I want that one, too!

Yeah!

I wanted it and I took it!

Dad, I put my protein shake
down someplace,

and now I can't find it!

Listen, I'm sorry,
but I told your friends

that they were making a little
too much noise...

Those aren't my friends
anymore, Dad.

I don't need friends.
I'm perfect.

They just drummed louder,
you know?

So I... I called the police
to file a noise complaint.

The police?

Dad, the police
are weaklings.

They can't do anything.

Watch this.

I have already told
you to be quiet!

Artificially elevated
levels of testosterone

may be useful for short-term
muscle gain,

but not for
conflict resolution.

This is ending now!

One, two,
three, four, five, six.

Evict the outcast!
Evict him.

I have achieved perfection
in body and mind!

- I am the ultimate man!
- Five, six.

I will destroy everything
you have built,

starting with this
stupid tambourines!

- And the these stupid drums!
- Hey! Hey! Not the bongos.

This flag used to stand
for something beautiful!

I want you
off my dad's property!

Would you please just stop?
Stop this!

As I
rampaged against my ex-girlfriend

and her heavily armed
followers,

the police my dad
called arrived on the scene.

Drop it now!
Drop it!

They were
joined by members of the FBI cult squad.

As they pulled out their guns
on Mrs. Greenfield's militia,

I pulled out the last weapon
I had at my disposal.

Look upon my works
and despair!

- Oh... Oh, God!
- Put down the weapon!

Oh God, oh God,
oh God.

I do not know who fired first,

or how the horrible chaos began.

But clearly, I had to get
out of there... and fast.

- What are you doing?
- All right, all right,

all right, all right...
Oh God!

- I can't find my...
- No! No! No! Ahh!

Protect the space ark!
Protect the space ark!

Drop it now! Drop it!

Officer! Don't shoot
the orange Hulk!

He's a good boy!

Oh, God.
Oh God, oh God!

- He's really sweet!
- Dad!

Forrest, I love you!

Down! Drop the gun!

- Dad!
- Oh!!

- Dad!
- Put down the weapon!

Die, monsters, die!

Oh, no! God, no! Oh!
We got to get out of here.

- What?
- Don't look. Don't look.

- They blew up what?
- Don't look at the house.

- Don't look at... why?
- Don't look at it.

Ahh! No!

- Not again!
- We got to go!

All this time later,

I'm still coming to terms
with the horror

of what happened
in that field.

How did my quest
for the perfect body

cost so many other people
their bodies?

It is, by far,

the most terrible experience

this show has subjected me to.

As you can see,

I have discarded the implants
and the fake tan

that caused so much horror.

I'm incredibly lucky
to be alive,

and my father is also lucky
to have only been shot

in the leg, and to have had
his second and final home

burned to the ground.

It could have been
much, much worse.

Which brings me
to Mrs. Greenfield,

who,
I'm very sorry to report,

died in a hail
of police bullets.

She came out here
to become a star,

and now she
dances among them.

Considering how little
time she had left,

I'm grateful that
she found the courage

to follow her dreams.

Getting the perfect body,

half a star.

So you didn't even keep
your new, uh?

No, I did not keep
my enormous penis,

and I would
rather not say why.

I think your audience
deserves to know that, Forrest.

My penis was so large

that, whenever I achieved
an erection,

I passed out from the lack
of blood flow to my brain.

That's all the time
we have for Review.

Please join us next time.

Sync and corrections by explosiveskull
www.addic7ed.com

All me! All me!
All me! All me!

All me! All me! Help.

Help. Help. Help.
Help. Help. Help.

Help.

Why the [bleep]
did you help me?

- Because you...
- Why did you help me?