The best kind of bright early summer's day spoiled by the worst kind of dark imaginings: Is it possible that in this season, otherwise so full of innocent promise, Hollywood executives banish all thought of us as audience -- discerning, judicious, culturally literate? Does the solstice induce in them some Kafkaesque mental process by which we are converted, for purposes of contemptuous calculation, into some lower life-form? Do moviegoers suddenly seem to them to be, say, a vast colony of ants mindlessly munching through forests of Roman numerals, unconcerned about the taste, good or bad, of anything placed in our path?...
Cinema: Time for The Ants to Revolt?
Two big, dull sequels hint at a drizzly summer
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