The scale from trash to masterpiece can be a short jaunt when it comes to art films. The variety that comes from such reviews is one of the things that keeps criticism exciting. But when I hear exorbitant levels of praise from people around me, I can't help but think that favor tends to sway toward the artist and less toward the presented work.
After walking out of the theater, the first words I reluctantly whimpered were: "...I hate it..."…
As with most franchised-based entertainment, I feel an obligation to reiterate this right off the bat: This critique is not about the book, or about the characters of the book, or its faithfulness to the book, or the fan base of the book. It's about the film. Now that we have an understanding, we can begin.
Thus it is, Hollywood's exploits have found a new home. The flavor of the month. I've no need to introduce anyone to The Hunger…