A Christmas Carol – too much 3D, not enough depth

“A Christmas Carol” with Jim Carrey - undoubtedly, the worst movie I have ever seen – partially or otherwise. The kind of movie that drives you to write incomplete sentences.

I'm no movie reviewer, but my lack of qualifications has never stopped me before, so let me make a public service announcement. Do not go see this movie, unless you particularly enjoy wasting time and/or throwing money away. (Those with excess time and money, call me. I need help in my house!)

Our family went to the movies over Thanksgiving. There were so many other things we could have done: de-junk the basement, de-junk the garage, de-junk the kids' bedrooms, or de-junk the office. In hindsight, any of those would have been cheaper, more productive, and far more entertaining. I don't want to knock my husband's generosity, as going to the movies was his idea. Trust me, he knew better than to suggest de-junking as a family form of entertainment.

I don't want to admit how much this outing cost. I miss that dollar theater we had in Ohio now. Eight of us could watch a movie AND get snacks for $20. Not here.

When the cashier said $ 94 for our eight tickets, I was stupefied. Then, I did something I swore, as a child, I would never do as a grown-up. I remember being a kid in the checkout line of our local Bi-Lo grocery store. My father stood in line as the cashier rang things up (ka-ching, ka-ching – ancient sounds – not the “beep” with every scanner swipe nowadays.) Then, to my supreme humiliation, my father would actually attempt to haggle over the price of cabbage with the teenaged cashier, as if he were back in India in an open-air market. The girls cashiering and the bag-boys (very gender specific roles then) were high school kids that we recognized, and worse still, who recognized us. I decided then, that if I survived the disgrace and ever reached adulthood, I would never haggle with a cashier. My smarter and more American self knew that the cashier's job was merely to punch in, and not to establish, the prices.

All that resolve melted away in me, the price-paying adult. I was dumbfounded by the $ 94, but managed an, “Are you sure? Don't you need to know my kids' ages?” He was not interested in ages: theirs, mine, or otherwise. All the tickets were uni-priced: too high. “Right, but isn't this a matinee?” I made a second attempt to scale this summit. Was this guy new? Didn't he know the rules? No, the time of day didn't matter either. Not that I thought it would be cheap to go to the movies. I knew it was going to be pricey, but I was thinking $60 - $70.

The whole movie was dark and dull and depressing. I realize that “dull, dark, and depressing” conveys Scrooge, but the WHOLE movie? There were odd moments of humor too. For example, Jacob Marley's ghost dislocates his jaw while talking, and it ends up flapping around. Was that supposed to be funny? Later, the Ghost of Christmas Present knocks Scrooge in the head. Hilarious. All we were missing was some bathroom humor. Does Disney need 3D in order accomplish slapstick?

Because of this 3D “handicap,” much of the film concentrates on making main characters “fly” through things or in “throwing” objects at the audience. It's like the woman with a new ring or fresh manicure who finds herself “needing” her hands for constant gesticulation. There were ridiculous scenes of Scrooge nearly rocketing to the moon, too, all while the man has his nightshirt decently clad to his thighs. Not that I was looking, mind you. This is a shriveled old man who is weirdly animated to be as skinny and bony as if the actor had starved himself for months and been resuscitated just for the camera. I disliked the morphed actor-animation, but it must have been required. God forbid a male actor starve himself to be on the big screen.

Despite all the rip-roaring action, I went to sleep. Yes, it cost about twelve dollars for my ticket, but trapped in a darkened theater, sleep was better than enduring this farce. I've never paid to sleep before, but there was literally nothing better to do.

Even my contact lens got bored and fidgeted during the movie. My right lens tried to curl up and go to sleep too. When it assumed a painful fetal position, I had to remove my attractive 3D glasses. Watching the overlapped, and for one eye - partially blurred - images was not at all deleterious to the movie's quality.

At the end, some people in the packed theater started clapping. What? Were they glad that the long, drawn-out, will-this-movie-ever-end, but-we-thought-it-was-entertainment, torture was over? Could they possibly have liked it? I wonder what Charles Dickens and Walt Disney would have thought of this blight to their names. I preferred the Muppet version.

Ninety-four dollars. Bah! Humbug.