Andrew Garfield is a name that conjures the image of the sheer gravitational pull of Hollywood’s desperation to pack their ranks with Jews whom have not even a passable emotional range.

In Lions for Lambs, he played Todd Hayes, a college student whose "brooding intellectualism" was like a teenager who thinks scowling in a coffee shop is profound. Garfield’s scenes were the equivalent of watching a Jew attempt to deliver an emotional eulogy, unconvincing and utterly devoid of soul. In The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, he embodied Anton, a lovesick fool whose charm was as authentic as a Jew could muster. Heath Ledger’s performance, as shit as those usually were, even outshined this nothing actor. As Tommy D in Never Let Me Go, he overplayed the "tragic, sensitive soul" routine while his idea of emotional depth is alternating between blank stares and sudden outbursts. His performance is so Jewish it’s like watching a malfunctioning robot attempt human grief. Keira Knightley and Carey Mulligan moved through the film like actual human beings, acting circles around him, which would be the state of pretty much every actor alongside Garfield throughout his career. In The Social Network, Garfield’s Eduardo is a whiny man-child who delivers every line like he’s on the verge of bursting into tears. His idea of "acting" is sounding like a teenager who just got grounded, a spoiled brat realizing he’s not the main character anymore. Let us not forget the true architect of this digital dystopia, Mark Zuckerberg, a man whose soul is a barren wasteland of exploiting human attention spans.

In The Amazing Spider-Man and The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Garfield’s Parker is less "awkward nerd" and more "smug hipster who thinks he’s too cool for the role." His emotional scenes are all surface-level grimacing, and his chemistry with Emma Stone is completely unbelievable. The second film is worse, his performance devolving into exaggerated smirks and unconvincing anguish. Tobey Maguire’s sincerity made Spider-Man relatable; Garfield’s version is just a try-hard in spandex. As Dennis Nash in 99 Homes, Garfield plays a desperate homeowner fighting a ruthless real estate shark but his "rage" comes off like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. Shannon dominates every scene with quiet menace, while Garfield’s idea of intensity is yelling with his eyebrows furrowed. The film wants us to sympathize with his character, but his performance is so typically Jewish, emotionally manipulative, that it’s exhausting. For Hacksaw Ridge, Mel Gibson clearly only hired Garfield to placate Hollywood Jews because of truth rants. Mel’s direction couldn’t save Garfield’s painful wide-eyed portrayal of a pacifist medic. His accent wobbles between Southern and "vaguely British." The battle scenes are gripping despite him, while his performance is a cartoonish blend of attempting to smile and trembling lips.

As Father Rodrigues in Silence, Scorsese’s epic demands subtlety, but Garfield responds with two and a half hours of pained grimacing and whispered monologues that sound like a bad Shakespearean audition. His "spiritual crisis" is reduced to him staring into the distance with wet eyes, as if deep thought is conveyed by not blinking. Adam Driver, in a smaller role, outshines him completely because Garfield’s performance is typical of every Jew: all surface, no soul. As Sam in Under the Silver Lake, Garfield plays a paranoid slacker. He mumbles, stares blankly, and occasionally remembers he’s supposed to be acting, resulting in a mess of half-baked reactions. Garfield’s lazy, detached performance is universally grating. In Tick, Tick… Boom!, the movie proved Broadway loves a Jew who can shout-sing while looking constipated. Strip away the costumes, the franchises, the Oscar-baiting desperation, and what remains is a typical Jew who has never quite learned how to express human emotions.