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Michael Smith’s “The Hunger Games: Catching Fire” Reeks of Pop Corn

In response to Michael Smith’s 1166‑word review of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire on Tulsa World

By ,

Even the visually impaired among us couldn’t miss Michael Smith’s “Catching Fire” as some sort of burning yearning for that old-time Jiffy Pop stove top popping corn, emphasis on the latter by-product, and burnt so as to be unpalatable.

Morphing intellectually into the teenage awestruck, Smith confesses to his willing ride on the wayback machine into such adjectival juvenalia as the term ‘awesome’ inhabits.

Employing such down-dumbed terms as ‘deeply satisfying’ and ‘vitality that is surprising’, Smith goes into hyperbolic ga-ga mode with the peurile ‘the most talented young actress in the world in the role of Katniss Everden. ‘, ‘… the heart and soul of these tales. ‘

So much for the verbal acne into which he makes the prima facie assertion that J. K. Rowling and her little English lad should consider another line of fantasy having been preempted from young adult (an oxymoronic phrase, fitting in the context of acne’s analogy) “book on film” land.

Sophomoric—even soporific—best capture the gleeful slobberings of Smith’s everyman of an assessment of lowered expectations, a virtual pandemic of the state of post-literate America best exemplified by that quaint other ‘Capitol’---the one on that Hill in D. C. —-where strutting caricatures of lawmakers boast of having ‘not read the bill’.

In the case of Smith’s bill of goods, it’s no sale, even if I haven’t climbed aboard his wayback trip to the good old daze of teenage blather.    

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