I really liked the OA, despite all the neck-beard whining on reddit and here on Voat, and here's why:
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reason number one (I'm ordering them for the particularly stupid voaters, as there seem to be many of you): it's rather clear, if you have half a brain, that the girl (Brit Marling) is telling a fantastical, unbelievable story, because what happened to her is even more horrific than what she described. It was so horrific that after she escaped she tried to kill herself by jumping off a bridge - hell, that happens in the very first episode, which should clue any person with a few brain cells to rub together that whatever she says after is probably going to be at least fictional.
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reason two: the story that she tells her teen listeners is obviously complete and utter bullshit, because what really happened to her is too awful for her to deal with. It's fairy-tale crap, and yet her teen audience drinks it in because a) they're fucking teens, and therefore stupid, and b) they're all damaged - each and every one of them. Damaged people are drawn to other damaged people; it's the way the world works. Coddled middle-class shit-stains who grew up in suburbia and have no fucking clue how the world actually works will never, ever fucking understand this. If you're one of these ignorant assholes, the best thing you can do is just shut the fuck up, because you don't have a clue about anything, no matter how much time you spend on the internet. The fact that you think you do is laughable to those of us who've actually been in the shit; laughable, that is, when we aren't tempted to slap the bitch out of you, which your pathetic helicopter parents should've done a long, long time ago.
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reason number three: in the final episode, the "interpretive dance" doesn't save the school from a mass shooting; the brave cafeteria worker does. Think about this: you're a reddit cum-stain who thinks you're a special fucking snowflake simply because you were born a special fucking snowflake, and yet some hot little cheerleader doesn't even know you're alive, much less entertains the idea of fucking you (which she should, because, y'know, you're a "special fucking snowflake"). The fact that she's banging the quarterback of the football team is added insult to injury, and you decide that she, and everyone else around her, needs to die, because, well, you're a special fucking snowflake and she's messing with the rightful order of the world.
Being the dumb-ass delusional loser that you are, you go and get yourself a rifle and decide to teach "the world" a lesson about your "special snowflake status". You dream about this for months - hell, even years - about getting payback because 'that little bitch' doesn't even know you're alive, when she should be riding your special snowflake cock and telling you just what a 'real man' you are. Clearly, she and the entire world need to be a taught a lesson, with bullets, because you aren't man enough to get in her panties the way a real man would.
You fantasize every single thing about this six ways to Sunday: about the screams of terror, about the blood, about the joy of making people beg for mercy before your worthless little cunt-ass. And finally, when you finally get up the balls to do the deed, you march into the cafeteria to spread terror and misery and pain (for no other reason than you're a worthless dip-shit who refuses to understand that you're a worthless dip-shit), and what happens? Five people you've never bothered to pay attention to (much in the way the cheerleader never paid attention to you), stand up and do these weird fucking dance moves. And THAT is the one thing you NEVER, EVER thought would fucking happen in all your little pathetic reddit-style fantasies.
Really, think about this: you're a fucking loser with a rifle pissed off that the cheerleader won't fuck you. You march into the cafeteria intent on making 'everyone' pay for not recognizing the fact that you're 'awesome', and what happens? Five assholes get up and start a dance routine. This never happened in ANY of your fantasies, ever. You stop, watch this insane little show, saying to yourself "what the fuck" and wondering if you're just dreaming this shit because fuck, it's a goddamn TWILIGHT EPISODE at this point, and while you're confused as fuck about what the hell is going on heroic cafeteria guy tackles your pathetic ass to the ground and ends your revenge fantasy against the cheerleader and everyone else who recognized you as the loser you truly are. When you think about it that way, the last episode makes complete and utter sense; if I were a loser fantasizing about mass murder as revenge over the fact that some cheerleader wouldn't fuck me, I too would wonder just what fucking Twilight Episode I'd walked into if this had happened.
- Reason number four: Brit Marling, an amazing actress (as well as a fucking hottie) does independent films. She does independent films because she refuses to spread her legs for piece-of-shit kikes. I worked in Hollywood and was on two films, and every single fucking actress got her role because she whored herself to kike vermin. That's the simple fucking truth of the matter. Think of a Hollywood actress who doesn't exclusively do independent films, and that fucking cunt has spread her likes for some filthy kike to get her role. Meryl Streep, that dumb bitch from the Hunger Games, Natalie Portman (a kike herself), Scarlett Johannsen, they've all fucked a kike to get where they are. THERE ARE NO EXCEPTIONS. NONE. Every single famous actress, no matter how much you like or respect her, got to where she is by spreading her bitch legs for a kike. It so disgusted me I left the industry and never looked back.
But I also learned that actresses that WOULDN'T spread their legs for some Jewish piece of shit all tried to go independent; and a very few made it. Brit Marling was one of them. Mainstream actresses HATE Brit Marling and others like her because they despise the fact that they turned themselves into whores to get where they are, while Brit got to where she was on sheer talent alone. The idea that a woman could become successful without taking some powerful man's cock makes them furious in a way a simple man like you or me can't imagine; which is why Brit will never be amongst Hollywood 'elite' - not because of the men who couldn't fuck her, but because of the women who sold themselves out and now hate her with a fiery passion that men can't even begin to imagine.
Brit is where she's at for no other reason than talent. Mainstream actresses are where they're at because they're whores, and worse, they whored themselves out to sub-human kike filth. It's really that simple. So when Brit does a film, good or bad, I watch it (and pay the price) just to support an actress who won't sell her pussy to the highest kike bidder.
These are the reasons I liked the OA. I think too many people took the last ep at face value (interpretive dance stopped the shooter) when in fact the 'interpretive dance' merely confused absolute fuck out of some loser dip-shit long enough for a brave man to take him down. Everything else is about the psychology of damaged people who gravitate to one another because, well, they're damaged people. The show doesn't appeal to coddle suburbanites because they can't even begin to understand what it means to be this damaged in the first place.
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[–] Magonia ago
Look... that is TL; DR - in its entirety, at least. I might go back later because I enjoyed the show very much. But I did catch the part where you claim her whole story is bullshit and made up? Because I didn't get that at all.
No, their "little dance" didn't stop the shooting but perhaps it will heal the victim(s). As shown in the previous episode when they healed Scott and the Sheriffs wife.
OA's intentions were not to share her story but to use them to open a portal of some sort. She succeeded in her mission in that by experiencing near death (the gunshot) she could reach the others (or at least Khatun) and find answers.
That's what makes it so good. Brit Marling certainly deserves an award for creativity.
We all (or at least most of us) want to know what happens after we die. Or if coming back to life is a choice we make consciously (so to speak) or not. It's an interesting perspective to me.
If you enjoy stuff like that and have a dark sense of humor watch the show Dead Like Me. The main cast is a group of "grim reapers" who meet up at Der Waffle House and their job is to "pop" people's souls before they die and help them find their "lights". The reapers get a post-it note with a name, address, and time of death. It aired 2003-2004 but it's still a great show that was cancelled way before it's time.