It was one of the most wonderful and unique starts to an interview ever: Within a minute, Willem was speaking in the incomprehensible babble of the Looney Tunes Tasmanian Devil. And then in Italian. Two of the world's finest languages!
The way to do a remake right, as evidenced by the 2004 monstrosity Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights, is to give it a colon, a subtitle, and a plot preferably set outside U.S. borders. This alerts the potential viewer to the fact that it will suck.
But wasn't the whole point of Netflix and every other me-based entertainment platform to help people avoid the snickering video store clerks? Hasn't bad taste become every American's basic human right?