When the trailer for Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey hit the internet last year, it produced a mild viral hysteria. The angriest Pooh fans accused director Rhys Frake-Waterfield of invading their childhood psyches, the creative equivalent of napalming 100 Aker Wood. When the film was released in theaters, critics mauled it, agreeing “this Pooh stinks.” Others—50 percent of the audience on Rotten Tomatoes and a profitable proportion of Mexico—appreciated its gruesome absurdity.
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