get a lobotomy instead

Rating: 2/10 (2 February 2008)

I have to confess, I was just as drawn into the hype as everybody else was. Eagerly awaiting to fill my morbid fascination of our civilization's demise at the hands, or claws or was it paws?, of yet another disgruntled genetic mutation. While I was handing out tums in the parking lot to my sons, it hit me; I was framed, mislead, swindled. But wait, perhaps it was silly of me to expect such notions as a plot, character development and acting in a, what do you call them?? Right, right, a movie. I never realized that Martha Stewart was a consultant on this movie, how else could have J.J. pulled off that initial 15 minutes of "How to host a party for pretentious and over bred 20 somethings"? So once my mind had managed to resurrect itself from that particular segment of drudgery, well, it was exposed to further lamentable and pathetic attempts at acting. Not only did I view the characters with that particular form of disdain only reserved for ex wives, but within seconds of their plight I was salivating at the though of their inevitable and hopefully torturous death. ( Thank you, exploding head.) The script was mesmerizing. The studio must have had a roomful of monkeys employed to do this, thus the wonderful plethora of 'Oh, God', 'God, Oh, God!' and the unforgettable 'Oh, No, God No!'. Editing was also top notch. Thus scene A where everybody is covered in dust to scene B where everybody is not. The special effects, well, they must have been special but I saw very little of it, for I spent most of the remainder of the movie doing my best not to imitate a gerbil and regurgitate my previous meals. There were characters with re-bars pulled out of their chest, half devoured by giant cockroaches, involved in helicopter crashes, but apparently all well enough to compete in the three mile sprint in heels. (Which should definitely be in the direction of the nearest acting school.) The accumulating effect of it all had given me enough strength to overcome my nausea and raise my hand in support of the enraged creature. Tears swelled in my eyes, as bomb after bomb was dropped on its obviously bomb proof shell. Hoping that it abandoned its crazed speculation in Manhattan real estate and instead would locate its agent and shook him until his innards came loose. Here is free advice for the sequel. Just make the creature watch the first film. Surely, after that, it will give up consumption of human meat, go vegan, retreat to its oceanic lair to study Haiku and fill the rest of its days doing soduku and devouring seaweed. OH, does anyone know where I can get one of those cameras that never run out of batteries and can withstand large chunks of concrete and a nuclear explosion?