“You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
I have a general rule when it comes to films. They’re either good or they’re bad. It’s not rocket science but it’s a principle that’s stood me in good stead over the years. I either enjoy a movie or I don’t. There’s no halfway house. But then there’s HULK, Ang Lee’s artsy-fartsy adaptation of one of Marvel Comics’ less compulsive superheroesond I really don’t know what’s what any more. Is it a good film? Is it a bad film? Is it exciting? Is it boring? The truth is probably somewhere in the middle of all these extremes.
Of course the Hulk ?you know the score?loke gets zapped by gamma rays, turns green when angry, trousers don’t rip, bounces around roaring and smashing things and communicates in monosyllables depending on who’s writing the comic at the time ?was never one of Stan Lee’s better creations. Even in my ‘Make Mine Marvel’ salad days I didn’t much care for ]]>
