We had high hopes for the film version of Garcia Marquez’s classic novel Love in the Time of Cholera. I mean it stars Javi Bardem! And while I was all revved up to see it tonight, I am flaking at the last minute. The reviews are so very gruesome that I don’t feel like ruining my entire weekend lamenting how they’ve massacred a great book. Salon gently recommends: “Gabriel García Márquez fans — and pretty much everyone else — should avoid this stink bomb like the plague.” Whoa.

It gets worse:

Forget the exhausted argument that no movie adaptation can ever match the pleasure of reading: Once fans of Latin American novelist Gabriel García Márquez get a load of the stink-burger Newell has made out of this much-adored book, there’ll be rioting, firebombs and general mayhem. Or at least many indignant snorts.

The New York Times was a bit more subtle, but still not very generous:

Faithful to the outline of the novel but emotionally and spiritually anemic, it slides into the void between art and entertainment, where well-intended would-be screen epics often land with a thud.

At least in that review, Javi gets props.

So I won’t be checking it out tonight. I’ll rely on you readers with a stronger stomach to tell me what you think of it. Leave your reviews in the comments section and please convince that I am making a mistake.

Via / Salon and NY Times