It's exactly the kind of incredible wordplay you'd expect from this film about cat possession. And while there's nothing wrong with including bullshit pun reviews as a joke, when you watch the ad in real time, it becomes apparent that chucklefuckery wasn't the only motivation.

EuropaCorp

That's right, each "review" flashed on screen for a nano-second while the voiceover quoted the fake praise without any context. Meaning that unless you paused your television, most people watching had no idea it wasn't really a quote from Vanity Fair. But if anyone calls them out on their colossal horseshit (like right now), the producers are able to shrug and say it was all in good fun. It must be a coincidence that the only other film to use this technique was the exhausting Vampire's Suck -- a spoof "comedy" which, according to ads, were given standing ovations by such critics as "Hugh Jass" and "Oliver Klozoffe." Jesus, you guys, could you at least think of bad vampire puns for your terrible film, like David Edelstake or Gene Siskill? It would have only taken a minute.

Oh no. Turns out that's no longer the case. It seems anyone can be a prestigious movie critic now, even @zoidberg95 talking about the unbridled joy King Arthur brings him. This isn't an isolated incident by a long shot, as evidenced by the recent pullquote in the trailer for Broken City, a Mark Wahlberg film with a 28 percent on Rotten Tomatoes.

20th Century Fox

Sure, we can all agree that Mark Wahlberg is "bad ass" in the sense that assaulting a middle-aged Vietnamese man is both "bad" and an "ass" thing to do. And sure, there's nothing technically wrong with giving the man on the street a voice of support. But here's the thing: According to the source of that quote, he hadn't seen the film. The studio used a tweet made about an entirely different Mark Wahlberg performance and used it in their ad. And they are somehow allowed to do this as long as they ask the author of the tweet beforehand. That's it. There are no qualifications or confirmations beyond a polite message and digital contract.

Twitter

Thanks to the crowdsourcing power of the internet, you can literally find anyone who is into any crazy thing. Studios know this, and are able to make a film seem like it has word-of-mouth appeal by scraping the bottom of the Twitter barrel to find faceless folks saying the right things. Or failing that, they find faceless folks saying the wrong thing and simply make it seem like they said the right thing.

Warner Bros. Pictures

After Batman v. Superman's Twitter account told us about the high praises of @raniaresh, someone pointed out that the now-banned account was only an egg icon with the profile: "I did NOT enjoy Batman v Superman." The tweet was then pulled and replaced with yet another rando with the same basic praise.

Twitter

Notice how it's the same reworded "whoa my mind = blown" quote, only now attributed to someone else? Warner Bros. didn't care where they were getting the quote; they just wanted some vague sentence calling their disjointed film "mind-blowing." Chances are they tasked some hungover intern to scour social media for any kind of evidence of exploding brains and slap that shit on a promo shot, regardless of who said those words or what context they were said in.

But if you think this dirty process is safe from critics, you are not correct ...

... was in truth pulled from a one-star review quote: "It's a very peculiar show indeed, with an unvarying and unpleasant tone of careless sexualisation. Rock'n'roll debauchery is presented as the pure and innocent way of dreamers."

Seriously, they fucking did that. And the reviewer in question wasn't too happy about it at all. And amazingly, this isn't the only time The Guardian's deep disdain was twisted into cheerful praise, like a laughing clown puppet made from a child's corpse. Check out this poster for Legend and its collection of four-star reviews:

Universal Pictures

Except that Guardian review in the middle? It's a two-star review they made to look like four stars that had been obstructed. That's honestly hilarious and brilliant and hard to be mad at, but the act of taking someone's out-of-context words and slapping them on your poster or DVD case can go from cute trolling to downright infuriating very fast.

For example, the movie Accidental Love (which has a flatlining 6 percent on Rotten Tomatoes) underwent a horrendous production which resulted in a cobbled-together shitcircus disowned by its director. When reviewing it, The AV Club noted that the original version probably wasn't all that great either, saying "there's little reason to believe that the ideal, untroubled version of the material would have been a comedic masterstroke."

And then this:

Millennium Entertainment

Yeah, that's the back of Accidental Love's DVD case using The AV Club's unfavorable description of a (still better) hypothetical movie as their review quote. You can imagine how that kind of insidious tangle of bull angered the original writer ... or you can read his response here.

It comes down to this: Never trust a review quoted on a movie's promotional material. Ever. The only information you're getting is that those combination of words were somewhere in the writing, but in no way were they necessarily meant to describe the movie being advertised. Which puts a whole new light on posters like this:

Drafthouse Films

That's right, in what seems like playground-level cheating, television networks can deliberately change or misspell their own shows if they anticipate bad ratings for that night. By doing this, that episode won't be calculated into the shows' overall averages, and their quarterly ratings won't go down. And so shows like NBC Nightly News become "NBC Nitely News," so that marketers don't pull that sweet, sweet commercial dough.

How could such obvious semantic trickery go unchallenged? Well, it turns out you can do all sorts of amazing hogwash with human language. Ever heard of the show Bull? It's a CBS courtroom drama co-created by, and inspired by, the life of Dr. Phil which exists for some unimaginable reason. It also airs something called "encore" episodes every now and then.

Hiddenremote.com

That's not just the wording of the article, but the official CBS classification of a repeat episode of Bull. You see, a show's ratings are calculated based not only on their first run, but also on (typically lower) rerun ratings. But if you call your rerun an "encore" episode, then it doesn't get categorized with the original episode, thus avoiding a lower score. Yep, apparently you can change the words of things to completely redefine their importance, like calling bags of Funyuns under a co-worker's desk "diamonds" and then telling everyone you're a "jewel thief."

Unfortunately for gamers, those reviews only came in after the midnight release -- as ordered by Ubisoft when they first sent their early copies out. But it could be worse. You could go a step further, like Wild Games Studios did when they trolled through YouTube sticking copyright violations on any video which spoke badly of their new release. Or Sega, which used the same tactic to shut down bad YouTube reviews that didn't even contain footage from their games.

In the end, this technique usually causes a huge and understandable backlash, on account of YouTubers being wicked blabbermouths about such injustices. But critic embargoes are so common that they're considered normal. And most often, this isn't nefarious at all, but rather a measure against premature spoilers or judgments before a film is locked down in post. Only every once in a while is this tool used to cover up true garbage. Pungent, salty garbage -- the kind you can taste through your nose. Like, I'm talking alien-chasing-a-school-bus-driven-by-Judd-Hirsch level of garbage here.

20th Century Fox

Independence Day: Resurgence is a film I happen to enjoy that is also objectively terrible. And 20th Century Fox knew it was terrible, hence their American critic embargo lasted up until the day it was released -- causing most audiences to buy a ticket without knowing its quality. Similar measures, which include completely skipping press screenings altogether, have happened for similarly bad work like Alien Vs. Predator and the G.I. Joe films.

Yes, you could argue that these films "weren't meant for critics," as a lot of executives often say. But that's kind of like saying an apartment complex "isn't meant for safety inspectors" or that your basement "isn't meant for homicide detectives." People deserve to know in advance if something sucks. But that doesn't mean we won't still enjoy it or flock to see it. And if all else fails, you can always do what China does and completely circumvent the pesky audience altogether ...