I've slept on it and decided Your Highness is a horror movie. Not because of the gratuitous amount of fake blood spilled. Not because Natalie Portman's character must protest that she doesn't want a chopped-off minotaur's penis to touch her. It is because we are pleading that Danny McBride won't touch her. In the end, we are saved from this mental image by a chastity belt, and can happily imagine that he is killed on the quest to defeat the witch that put it there.
** I was considering "Natalie Portman goes slumming" as the title, but there's that whole Star Wars prequel thing. You could argue that was unintentional slumming, because no one could have known in 1997 just how bad the results would be, but it's possible she thought this would be funny.
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