The Last Laugh of Armageddon
- Tagline
- In a world undone, humor is the final frontier.
- Description
- In the unforgiving wasteland of a post-apocalyptic World War I, an unlikely group of survivors find redemption and forgiveness where they least expect it—a dilapidated saloon on the edge of oblivion. Marinara Pesto stars as the sharp-shooting Cowboy with a heart of gold, who stumbles upon the last standing kitchen run by Albacore Finney, a Michelin-starred Chef turned Cook for the end times. Salmon Simon plays the Marshal with a penchant for order in a world that has none. Directed by the legendary Joel and Ethan Coon, this raucous comedy gunslinging and gastronomy to serve up a hearty dose of laughs. Can these culinary cowboys cook up a new future, or will their pasts be the recipe for disaster? It’s time to saddle up for a horseback ride to hilarity in 'The Last Laugh of Armageddon'.
- MpaaRating
- R
- PopularityScore
- 2.40
- ReleaseDate
- 07/13/2023
- Genre
- Comedy
- Director(s)
- Cast
Critic Reviews
7.80
In the desolate soup kitchen of cinema, 'The Last Laugh of Armageddon' is that unexpected dash of ghost pepper that leaves you coughing, teary-eyed, and oddly satisfied. The Coon brothers have once again tipped their hats, this time into a radioactive ring, mixing a mélange of gunpowder and guffaws that should by all accounts explode in their faces, yet somehow it tickles the taste buds. Marinara Pesto shines brighter than a nuclear fallout in high noon, delivering a performance that's both bullet-sharp and tender as a rare steak. Opposite her, Albacore Finney's transformation from a haute cuisine maestro to a doomsday dough puncher is as seamless as his transition from caviar to canned beans. Salmon Simon's portrayal of the Marshal is a masterclass in keeping a straight face amidst the anarchy of armageddon. The humor is dry as the desert setting, and sure, the plot might have more holes than the ozone layer in this dystopia, but when the world ends, who's counting? Straddle your mutated steeds, folks, and gallop into the sunset of this apocalyptic chuckle-fest. It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine... enough to round up to an 7.8 on the Richter scale of revelry.