"I do believe the worst is behind us now."
Whether enduring a hangover or viewing The Hobbit, my experience is pretty much the same: ponderous, slow moving, and disjointed. The benefit of the hangover is that it probably doesn't last three hours.
Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman, whom I utterly adore despite his being in this movie), a staid and peace-loving Hobbit, leaves his home in Middle Earth to join Gandalf the sorcerer (Ian McKellen) and a band of dwarves in reclaiming their mountain home and fighting the dragon that stole it.
This first of Peter Jackson's three bloated installments of the slim J. R. R. Tolkien book proceeds as follows: March, fight evil beings. March, sense evil. March, fight evil beings. Deal with the immense chip on Thorin's dwarvish shoulders. Offer clumsy CGI and stilted dialogue that must have Tolkien spinning in his grave. Wash, rinse, repeat. One brief respite takes place at Rivendale, and we meet the only featured female character in the entire movie (Cate Blanchette as Galadriel). The adventurers never even get close to the mountain or dragon.
Under the banner of "even a blind squirrel finds an occasional acorn", the movie has its moments—some parts are charming, absorbing, and/or exciting. The best part for me was when the credits rolled, and I could escape to the bathroom.