The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 (review)
Yup, those pants are still traveling.
Yup, those pants are still traveling.
Don’t forget to buy the Hellboy Happy Meal on your way home.

Oh my god: the silly, it burns. It burns!
Three ordinary, modern-day, working-class veggies are dragged back in time, where they are mistaken for pirate-esque heroes who have to help a pretty green princess do something or other on the high seas.

The sweet silliness of the collective Disney animated fairy-tale landscape meets the rough reality of Noo Yawk. Why didn’t someone think of this sooner and pull it off as perfectly as Enchanted does?
It’s got… something, this silly flick that’s just a little bit profound in its goofiness, this wonderland of schtick that touches on the dark flipside of all the ho-ho-ho and enforced jolliment of the Holiday Season(TM).
Holy shit, but this may be the best straight-up horror movie of the year — I was riveted by the sinister sophistication of it.
Oh, but there is joy in this movie… It fills you up, this wonderful, wonderful movie, with just the simple yet profound connection it’s possible to make with another creature, even if that creature is merely a cartoon rat.
Oh, thank the gods. Thank crazy Walt Disney’s head in a cryogenic freezer. Thank the army of producers and FX geeks and writers and cast and studio execs and focus-group gurus and everyone else who made this prepackaged, ready-for-synergy-marketing, lowest-common-denominator junk cinema the most cheesalicious, escape-a-riffic it could be.
The first person who uses any aspect of this flick to justify the American debacle in Iraq is getting a swat across the nose with a copy of *My Pet Goat.* Which King Leonides of Sparta does not sit reading while his country is threatened and attacked.