Susie and I are inveterate movie goers, and the summer season ought to see a flood of seeable movies. But this year has been a disaster. Despicable Me 2? I mean seriously. So yesterday we went to see The Lone Ranger, starring Johnny Depp [as Tonto, needless to say].
When I was a boy, my sister and I were tasked with doing the dishes each evening after dinner in the tiny kitchen of our tiny house. I would wash and Barbara would dry. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, as we worked, we would turn on the tiny radio by the sink and listen, between seven and seven-thirty, to The Lone Ranger. The catchphrases and music of that show are burned into my brain, and it was with considerable trepidation that I ate my nachos and cheese [no jalapenos] and waited to see what Depp and done to my childhood.
The good news is that the movie is as campy, as bizarre, as over the top as Pirates of the Caribbean. One reviewer suggested that the real star was Silver [the Lone Ranger's horse, for the one or two readers who do not know]. The bad news is that the movie, at two and a half hours, is about an hour too long. But it has several memorable lines, including the very last line of the story within the story, uttered, of course, by Depp as Tonto.
My nachos barely made it through the Previews of Coming Attractions.
