input question: Select the correct sentiment of the following review: I highly recommend this film. Set in the Bladerunner-esquire future of 2054 Paris, it is in most respect a classic film noir script: lady in peril, sister trying to find her, honest cop fighting everyone. Luckily, it avoids being stereotypical, and combines a pretty good storyline with interesting, innovative visuals. The film might remind you of Sin City in look, but it has an even sharper, even more graphic novel look that I found really compelling. Each frame, each sequence seems like it could have been pulled from the desk of a skilled graphic designer. In terms of story and artwork, you can find nods going back to the nineteen forties (or even earlier with the classic views of the Eiffel Tower and Sacre Couer) and movies like Casablanca, as well as looking toward a grim future where our destines are ruled by corporations. Make any excuse you need to see this film.
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output answer: positive

input question: Select the correct sentiment of the following review: "Algie, the Miner" is one bad and unfunny silent comedy. The timing of the slapstick is completely off. This is the kind of humor with certain sequences that make you wonder if they're supposed to be funny or not. However, the actual quality of the film is irrelevant. This is mandatory viewing for film buffs mainly because its one of the earliest examples of gay cinema. The main character of Algie is an effeminate guy, acting much like the stereotypical "pansy" common in many early films. The film has the homophobic attitude common of the time. "Algie, the Miner" is pretty awful, but fascinating from a historical viewpoint. (3/10)
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output answer: negative

input question: Select the correct sentiment of the following review: Christ, oh Christ... One watches stunned, incredulous, and possibly deranged, as this tawdry exercise in mirthless smut unfolds with all the wit and dexterity of a palsied Galapagos tortoise. Can such things be? Does this movie actually exist, or was I the unwitting guinea pig of some shadowy international drugs company, sipping my coffee unaware that it had been spiked with a dangerous hallucinogen? I've seen a lot of films, and a lot of bad films, but nothing prepared me for this; by the end of it I was a gibbering, snivelling wreck, tearing at the carpet with my teeth like a dog, clawing at the walls, howling till my lungs were sore. I pleaded desperately, frenziedly for mercy (to whom this appeal was made, I don't know), and longed with burning desire for the soothing balm of Ozu Yasujiro. Sweet Weeping Jesus, the memories... sometimes they come back to me. When I'm at my most vulnerable, when I'm least able to handle them. I shudder, I break down in tears, I bite my fingernails till my hands are slathered with blood, but I can't quite banish the awful flashbacks from my mind. I'm haunted. I'm damaged. I'm a shell of a man.

The other user comments here suggest that I am not alone in having undergone this terrifying experience, which can only mean one of two things: a) the film does, in fact, exist, or b) I am but one victim among legions of an international conspiracy of truly sinister proportions. What is quite mind-boggling is that some people seem to have enjoyed their ordeal, or at least have not been left traumatised by it. Perhaps they're part of the operation. God damn them, the maniacs! God damn them all to Hell!!!!!!
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output answer:
negative