Looking over a few of my columns from the beginning of the summer movie season, I began to get quite depressed. Here were the words of a naïve and hopeful young man, so full of wide-eyed anticipation for “what was sure to be one hell of a summer,” now confronted by the harsh realities of one of the most disappointing periods for movies in recent memory.
I ache for my lost innocence, and now, after seeing the lifeless and pointless and altogether unfortunate “Predators,” I see no way that the summer season can possibly redeem itself over the course of the next five weeks. (Sure, it’s given us “Toy Story 3,” but that about all it’s given us.)
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