A ship sails in search of Cthulhu in this inaccurate documentary.
I'm going to have to stop this review right here because the film-makers got the whole thing wrong. They didn't have to charter a boat and sail half-way to who-knows-where to find Cthulhu because he's listed in the telephone book. All you have to do is give him a call. He lives in a crappy one-bedroom apartment in Miskatonik, Massachusetts and he's so behind the times he still has a land-line. We went to school together, and he's not all that. I just laugh whenever I see some new cult has developed around him, because he wasn't very popular in school and was a C student.
Don't tell him I said this, but he had a really tough time during the recession. He lost a lot of money in some real estate investments and his chain of restaurants, Cthulhu's Gourmet Corndogs, went out of business. His gold-digging wife kicked him to the curb, and he defaulted on his condo. He spent a few months sleeping on my couch while he got his act together, and it was two of the worst months of my life. He doesn't pick up after himself and couldn't wash a dish to save his life; so remember that when you all are sacrificing goats to the "Mighty Cthulhu". You certainly wouldn't think very highly of him after you've seen him in his boxers and white t-shirt with the stained armpits that's covered in Cheeto crumbs and he hasn't changed them in 6 days. Every square inch of my penthouse was covered in half-empty Red Bull cans and cardboard moving boxes. I'm not sure how I survived.