Captive on a plane to Crete with little to do and no headphones, I watched Paul Blart 2 in silence. Looking back that feels like a good shout.
Probably a good thing I didn’t have sound. It may have tipped me over the edge, forcing me to rip the screen down and throw it through the window. Cabin de-pressurisation and death would no doubt have been preferable for all aboard.
The entire aim of the film is to put Kevin James in ridiculous situations. Perhaps I’m a prude, but I’m past being asked to laugh at a fat man fall over. It just seemed sad.
Preferring your travel sickness to the utterly unfunny ‘slapstick’ on-screen says it all.
An awful film that is bad and should feel bad about being so bad.
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