The King. He Returned.

Not a Review

We finally made it to Return of the King last night. A friend volunteered to watch Aged Mother while we had dinner and took in the show. A.M. ran her ragged. Sigh.

I don’t have much to say about the film. I don’t usually have much to say about films that worked for me. It’s been nearly twenty years since I last read the trilogy so most changes/adjustments to the story went unnoticed. Someday Nizzibet and I will sit down with all the extended versions and watch the whole story straight through.

And twenty or thirty years from now (heck probably just ten) someone is going to remake the story as a 20 hour TV miniseries. It won’t be better. But it will include Tom Bombadil and the Scouring of the Shire. And singing. Much more singing.

And sometime in 2005 or 2006, Peter Jackson and his band of Kiwis will give us their remake of King Kong. That should be fun. Certainly more fun than the 1976 version. More fun than any of the Jurassic Park movies.

It’s morning as I write this. Everyone but me is asleep. I’d be happy to grab some z’s myself but I know that two minutes after I get comfortable A.M. will wake up and need something. She’s evil that way.