Review: The Desolation of Smaug

smaugI can admit it… a small part of me held on to hope that this second The Hobbit film would somehow make up for the travesty that was the first, but, alas, that tiny, fragile part of me was crushed under foot as I dipped toe into the void that was The Desolation Of Smaug.

First off, if you like great looking films – and in some parts, really, really great looking — and aren’t much for character, story, plot or dialog… this is definitely for you, and you should run right out and see it. I’m sure most people will get a jolly good kick out of watching Bilbo, the Dwarves, some elves and some other crap that has no place being around during the storyline romp about and accomplish less than nothing, save for a few cascading battle scenes, however for the rest of us…. great googley moogley, what a turd. Zero character development, a host of new atrocities that deviated from the book in really stupid ways – not limited to fabricating characters that were never even in it –, Bilbo frankly might as well not have even been there… the list goes on.

The big question on everyone’s breath for a while now has been “How do you make another trilogy out of a book that that’s far less than a third the size of the last trilogy?” Well, here’s your answer. Step 1: You’re Peter Jackson, and you haven’t made anything good in years. Step 2: You want a lotta, lotta money. I think that pretty much covers it. The storyline was stretched so unbelievably thin in order to get this to sit on screen for so long that, literally, I’m surprised they didn’t just cut to black for a 45 minute nap break.

Aside from an admittedly fantastic score, one really good thing did come out of this film: the totally delicious Hobbit menu at Denny’s. I went for the “Build Your Own Hobbit Slam” and enjoyed hash browns, Sweet Potato Pecan Pancakes, Honey Cake French Toast and a buttered english muffin for several dollars less than the cost of the movie ticket. I highly recommend you save your money and go for that instead of just getting browbeaten by terribly soulless modern filmmaking.

by Johnny Beaver