Les Schtroumphs

If you announce that you're off to see "Les Schtroumphs" at the cinema it's remotely possible you'll get away with seeming snooty and grown-up. If, however, your audience knows the deep, dark origins of the word "Smurf" you'll be outted rather abruptly.

(A lesser writer might be tempted to say "you'll be smurfed rather smurfily" but I'm not going to pluck that low-hanging, cerulean blue fruit.)

I tolerated this film. It was marginally more pleasant than my $220 trip to the dentist this morning, and my kids loved it. Mostly I killed time deconstructing the narrative on the fly and attempting to divine whether or not the next ten or fifteen minutes of film would give us the scene I craved, the one where Gargamel feeds three apples worth of Smurf into a food processor and works some good necromancy instead of the panty-waisted essence-tapping he usually performs. I mean, if Smurf tears will let your wand shoot lightning, just think of what you could accomplish with 250ccs of Smurf purée.

As it turns out, that scene isn't even in the movie. I could have sworn I saw it in the trailers, but it's possible I dreamed it after seeing the teasers last year. 

Where is this film on my list? Look, I don't want to knock the fun time I had with my kids, but if you force me to choose between watching The Smurfs or watching something from the last five or six slots on my list, I think The Smurfs will fall just below Battle: Los Angeles and above (yes ABOVE) Green Hornet

But it's below the Threshold of Disappointment. Season of the Witch needs more company down there. Also, that witch? I bet SHE could work some magic with Smurf purée.

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