To be fair, I should state right off that I don’t really like movies. I mean some are good, but overall sitting in a dark cinema watching a film is as good as a sleeping pill. I am in fact famous for sleeping through movies.
I have a child. One does things with and for children, that one would never ordinarily do. Going to see the sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean is one such thing. Keep in mind please that I didn’t really like the first movie, with the exception of the boat docking scene (where it sinks—“What boat?”), and the smithy scene (“Pirate.”). In my view, two clever scenes do not a movie make.
Well, if I thought the first movie was bad, nothing could have prepared me for the banality of the second. I had made it through almost two hours, when I finally went out into the lobby. Surely the film was almost over, right? I asked two gentlemen who worked at the movie theater what the run time of the movie was. They smiled, so helpful, and said, “Two hours and forty-five minutes.” I honestly thought they were teasing me, so I said, “You’re kidding?” They said, “No ma’am.”
Another hour? ANOTHER HOUR? I told my husband I was leaving and walked a mile and a half in ninety-degree temperatures to our friends’ house where we were having dinner.
What can I say? I snapped. But at least I escaped some terrifyingly dull pirates.
Oh, and now I have to update my Ten Worst Movies list.