In an attempt to escape the stifling heat which our ancient air conditioner wasn't quite up to the task of defeating, Karen and I went to see The Chronicles of Riddick today.
Visually, it was quite pleasing.
The plot, however, had so many holes that it should have been called The Collander of Riddick. It's not an intelligent film, by any stretch of the imagination; it is a proud member of the Summer Blockbuster genre, in which the audience is expected to shut off its collective brain and just watch the pretty explosions.
And there are many. There are also interesting costumes, stunning sets (which, unfortunately, weren't used to their fullest advantage) and nifty CG sequences. Unfortunately, once again the effects seem to have driven the screenplay, rather than the other way around. And the writer (who also perpetrated Waterworld) apparently didn't much care whether anything made sense, from certain characters' (and groups') motivations, to characters stranded on a planet suddenly showing up elsewhere, to the very conclusion of the movie.
But as Karen and I keep saying to each other, "Well, it looked pretty."