I must start this out with a confession: I am someone who is prone to hyperbole. It will worm its way into my everyday interactions. In fact, one might say that I am liberal with my hyperbolicity— non-literal exaggerations can be found in the way I discuss, describe, act, and recount; in the way I exist.
However, when it comes to hyperbole, there is no place I use it more than in my descriptions of films. “It’s the most fun ever”, I might say about a movie that’s pretty fun, but the most ever? Probably not. However, in 2018 there was one film that was the receiving end of more hyperbole than any other: Bohemian Rhapsody.
This hyperbole was exclusively negative. Some descriptions I threw around included “the worst”, “actual trash”, “fully awful”, and “scum on the bottom of my shoes”. In an informal year in review I even went so far as to express my wish to strike it from history, calling it “cultural cancer masquerading as a film”. I’ll admit that the last one is probably one step too far, cancer is no laughing matter.
Then again, neither is Bohemian Rhapsody.