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I went to see The Dissipation of Smaug this evening. As I have staunchly refused to give Peter Jackson any more of my money, I fortunately went free, as my daughter received a theater gift card from one of her aunts for Christmas.
I will perhaps write a longer critique later, but for now I will only say that the movie was absolutely the most dreadful melange of poorly penned subplots and derivative nonsense that I have ever seen. This in no way is The Hobbit; this, my dears, is fan-fiction gone amok, and Peter Jackson -- with his enormous, pendulously hanging goiter of an ego -- has completely lost his flippin' mind.
As opposed to Jackson's previous forays in destroying and reassembling Middle-earth a CGI brick at a time, I didn't even enjoy the cinematography this time around. Everything looked fake and everything was completely over-the-top.
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And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulders of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision.
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