Clash of Memory and Expectations

In about six hours or so (or just after noon my time), my dad and I are going to go watch the remake of Clash of the Titans.  I will be breaking two near-cardinal rules of mine in doing so.  First, I rarely watch any sort of "action/adventure" movie in the theater.  Second, I distrust any remake of a movie I've seen at some point and remember actually liking to some extent.

Of course, I saw the original on TV when I was like 8-10 years old, so my memories of that movie are going to be a bit fuzzy, but I do recall it sparking an interest in Greek and Roman mythology that lasted through my mid-teens.  So I know the basic storyline of Perseus, Medusa, and so forth.

Now I get to go in and try to predict where the slow-motion silly jumping takes place, how many humongous explosions there will be, and just how many CGI images will attempt to substitute for actual human acting.  Needless to say, my expectations for this movie being anywhere near as memorable as the original are near zero and my fears are great that this will end up being a steaming pile of shit.

It's a good thing I rarely watch any movies, because if I were to start blogging about them here, I suspect I'd run out of ways of saying just how much a movie sucked a goat's/monkey's/donkey's/baboon's/Bonaduce's/Shatner's left/right nad/ass/teat/taint. 

Check that:  Some would want to be deemed worthy of enough to suck anything of Shatner's.  None will be worthy of sucking off a squirrel, though.