That's right. One day, when all the drivel that currently preoccupies so-called movie fans has passed into the obscurity it deserves, "Reflections of Evil" will still have a life. Weird kids -- i.e., future artists -- will turn to it for inspiration. Scholars -- those few that exist -- will study it for the insight it provides into hyper-paranoiac America at the turn of the 21st century. Steven Spielberg should count his lucky stars that "Reflections of Evil" exists. Without it, he'd have no legacy whatsoever. But because he was satirized by Damon Packard (who's weirdly a Spielberg admirer), future generations will know him as the corporate shill he was, churning out movie after movie that told his contemporaries absolutely nothing about the times in which they lived, and becoming a billionaire in the process. Spielberg is the Thomas Kinkade of circa-2000 film-making, and Damon Packard the Heironymus Bosch. Alas, he doesn't know it, but the limited intelligentsia of the future will.
Review of Reflections of Evil
