I, like the majority of the western world, saw The Hunger Games on opening weekend. It had been nearly a year since I’d read Suzanne Collins’ book and I hadn’t yet started on the sequels. (I’m doing that now — and at the moment, I’m on Team Finnick. Sorry, Peeta! This is subject to change, though.)
I enjoyed the movie quite a bit, though I came away with slightly mixed feelings because the anticipation had been so great. Mostly, I was just relieved that it was so, so much better than that damn Twilight. (You’d think, sometime after passing the billion-dollar mark at the box office, they might actually try and make them at least a little bit good. But then again, why bother?) I came away feeling like I needed to see it one more time to be certain of my opinion.
And now I’ve done that.