FOR ME, THAT’S A NO BRAINER: CHRISTOPHER NOLAN’S THE ODYSSEY.

It might have been a smidgeon less unbearable as a silent movie. Then my wife and I and my son and daughter-in-law wouldn’t have had to spend three hours with our fingers in our ears. I didn’t dare to take mine out even long enough to eat my pocorn! Besides, no one said anything worth hearing. Why did all the characters talk in in a monotone, as if they had recently taken at least 19 sleeping pills? To invest the story with epic gravitas? Why didn’t they just talk like soldiers do in wars, one grunt to another?

Poor old grey-bearded Matt Damon in his soldier’s costume! Why didn’t he refuse to talk like somebody’s addled Uncle Joe on Halloween, trick or treating with the kiddies?

And Calypso? She was a goddess, for goodness sake! Why make her look and act like a middle aged suburban mom on a Club Med beach? And a Replublican one at that! I was relieved when she gave Odysseus lotus flowers to eat. I was expecting she’d offer him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk.

And the battle scenes! My goodness, did they really have to go on and on and on and on? Swords on helmets, swords on shields. That’ an auful lot of clanking noises! I wonder what the ketchup budget was.

Oh well, it finally ended.

And I still had a big cardboard bucket of popcorn to eat!