The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy opens today. I keep telling myself don’t panic. I keep telling myself that Fight Club was a brilliant adaptation of a book people thought could not be made into a movie. Sin City was a terrific adaptation of a book no one thought could be made into a movie. Maybe Arthur Dent will take me places I want to go, although I always was partial to Zaphod. Oh, did I want to leave with Zaphod, in my younger days, whenever some guy at a con was boring me. He was from outer space and I wanted to see his spaceship. Although Martin Freeman looks more sitcom-ready than anything else in the promo photos, I’m going to wait until I see the movie to form a final opinion. When I see the actual flick, I may not find Mr. Beeblebrox all that appealing either. I just really feel like this was a book written to be a book and not a movie. I know I would be unemployed if producers felt that way about SF across the board, but I can’t help feeling just a little bit betrayed somehow that this got made.
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