The key scene in Eli Roth’s latest horror movie, Thanksgiving, has nothing to do with a murderous Pilgrim shoving corn holders in a teenager’s ears or baking a victim alive in an industrial oven after dressing her like a turkey. It’s a moment of seeming levity in which a nameless high-school jock with flowing locks reads from a paper in English class.
He’s nearing the crescendo as he proudly proclaims that he just can’t celebrate Thanksgiving anymore in these times, especially as a citizen of Plymouth, Massachusetts. The group of girls surrounding him coo. He tears up and wipes his eyes with his shirt, revealing his washboard abs.
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