Jack Black does what he does best: act like he’s too cool for school, but a jerk nonetheless. A more stereotypical casting would be hard to find, I think, and I suppose that’s not always a bad thing, but the problem with this movie is not so much Jack Black as is everything else.
The story, of course, is a modern-day adaptation of the classic novel by the same name by Jonathan Swift. I wish I could state without hesitation that this modern-day adaptation is a clever rendition of the original. Alas, I cannot. In fact, I regret to say that the story did nothing to fan and build upon my imagination, and left instead, an indelible impression of Jack Black’s bulkiness in my mind as the overarching physical attribute of Gulliver.
So sorely disappointed I was with things in general, that I am trying desperately to find some qualities of redemption that I might list here, and seem to be failing miserably. Well, perhaps Emily Blunt’s pleasant face and demeanor could be one.
But notwithstanding my own paltry review of this movie, I am happy to offer a very witty review of the same by the New York Times right here. I’m sure this will have most certainly brought a smile to Mr. Swift’s lips.