The other day we watched** "Gravity," and all I can say is "Meh." (Which I did in fact say on Twitter, prompting Diane to reply, "Meh, exactly. Honestly, the alligators could have eaten her in the swamp, and I wouldn’t have cared.") Andy agreed, but Pete liked it.
You know I adore George Clooney, but frankly he's not in the movie that much, and he didn't have such a meaty character. And you also know I can't stand Sandra Bullock, and she's in it the whole time, so that was obviously a big part of the problem. I just had no interest in what happened. And the efforts to flesh out the characters didn't really work for me.
One thing, though, is that if I ever thought of going into space, you can forget about it now. Never. I won't even go scuba diving. In fact, any activity where there's a chance of running out of oxygen and you can count me out.
I really can't believe it won so many awards, but there you go. (Also, because I heart Neil deGrasse Tyson so much, I can't ignore the scientific errors he pointed out in the film—although he claims to have liked it. One of his main complaints was one of mine, too: "Why Bullock, a medical doctor, is servicing the Hubble Space Telescope.")
**I say "watched" because we watched it on our ginormous-screen TV. I usually say "saw" when I go to the cinema. I am aware that some of you will claim that the reason I did not appreciate "Gravity" was that I did not see it at the cinema, but I don't think that would have made me like Sandra Bullock any more—indeed, there would have been more of her to dislike.