After much campaigning on the part of my husband, I agreed to walk down to the Parrswood complex today and watch Avatar with him, secretly wondering why boys born in the 70s are so very excitable when it comes to watching anything at the cinema in 3D.
"Do you need 3D glasses?" asks the lady on the ticket desk.
Well, urm, yes - I don't tend to carry such things with me on the off-chance that my own build-in 3D vision has failed.
"You have to pay 80p for them, but you get to keep them and you can use them again!" she chirrups cheerily.
Use them again? What for?
Anyway, the upshot was that I spent almost three hours of my life with said glasses perched uncomfortably on my nose (I still have the attractive facial indentations), watching large blue people fall in love and fight with mean human beings. The film was actually a little better than I had expected - the special effects ARE amazing, and anything with Sam Worthington and Sigourney Weaver in it must have something going for it. But it is massively too long, and rather predictable - I got the impression that inside the overblown hugeness of it all there was a truly great film just trying to get out.
But I do have a handy pair of 3D glasses in my handbag.
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