Time for another overwrought and bloated installment of The Hobbit, otherwise known as the gift that some MBA-enhanced suit hopes will keep on giving with little regard as to whether or not it makes any sense from a narrative perspective.
No writer in his or her right mind would have expanded the limited fare that is the source material into three dysfunctional films without some real Dwarf-like greed playing a leading role in that decision.
Obviously, I am not entirely a fan of the trilogy concept for this book (nary a Hobbit called me) and although I have enormous respect for most of the talents involved, you’ve got to wonder at the sheer indulgence involved in this undertaking.
Seriously, wonder. Like go ahead, and ask yourself, or the person next to you.
“What the hell happened?”
Well, that should be as obvious as the beard on a female dwarf. Greed is good.
I did enjoy much of the film, and it really makes you want to move to a nice, wooded spot, or visit Oregon, but wow is it a bloated mess. Maybe that’s just me. I’m awfully fond of narrative coherence and things like pacing.
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