Kat and I braved the Hollister movie theater and caught the late showing of “A Series of Unfortunate Events.” Not bad, but something I can’t put my finger on kept it from truly succeeding. I maintain that it had potential — wonderful, Burtonesque potential especially evidence by the last third.
I’m almost tempted to read some of the Lemony Snicket books. They’re dark and morbid and, as near as I can tell, full of snakes and leeches and exactly the kind of stuff I was always drawn to as a kid, even though most kiddie fare avoided it.
Easily, however, I would recommend this movie for its ending credits. Seriously, if you have eight bucks to spare and would rather not watch Jim Carrey ham-and-cheese it up for ninety minutes, sneak in late and watch the ending credits. They rock. They’re like a creepy-cool Smashing Pumpkins video done with animated paper cutouts and set to the kind of airy-mellow Thomas Newman that sounds like every other Thomas Newman score. Kat and I both decided that we wishes we still got high so we could come back and watch them again.