I wanted to like “Snow White and the Huntsman.” Despite my rampant and oft-vocalized contempt for all things Kristen Stewart, I thought Charlize Theron’s perfection and Chris Hemsworth’s face (and body, and beard) would more than make up for it.

Sorry, Thor. Not even you could save this one.

Coming out of the theater, the first thing I said to my brother, who was the one to convince me to go instead of seeing “The Avengers” again, was, “Half an hour shorter and maybe it would be better.”

And it’s true. 

Toward the end I was close to dozing off, even though I knew somewhere in my wandering mind that the epic battle should be starting.

I can, without question, say this: said epic battle, just like the rest of the film, was visually exquisite. Breathtaking, even.

The same cannot be said for Kristen Stewart’s performance.

Even though I expected it to some degree, Stewart’s infamous lack of facial emotion was painfully highlighted at various parts. 

One scene that sticks out is when Snow, coming across an enormous, scary, bridge-guarding troll, stares it down in what I assume was supposed to be an imploring, innocent, calming manner.

She looked constipated.

It was like this throughout the entire film. 

The basis of Snow White’s character is her ability to inspire; inspire the Huntsman sent to kill her to fall in love instead; inspire a group of eight (eight!) dwarves to follow her into battle; to inspire that ugly bridge troll not to crush her and the Huntsman into oblivion.

The problem, at its core, is that Kristen Stewart, in this film as much as in many of her others, is entirely uninspired, and it ruins the effect Snow White is supposed to have.

These problems could be solved by one or both of two things: the aforementioned cut in time, and more Charlize.

I would actually consider picking more Charlize if I was forced to choose.

Everything about her portrayal of the evil Queen Ravenna was perfect. She was equal parts terrifying, insane and blood-thirsty.

The idea that she was avenging her past physical and emotional abuse by sucking the souls of beautiful women kind of negates any feminist themes the movie was striving for, but… that’s not on Charlize.

Her range is unreal. 

Her moments of quiet, controlled, glassy-eyed rage managed to be even freakier than her ear-splitting screams and literal heart stealing.

The verdict: See it. I would say wait for DVD, but your eyes will appreciate the visual feast the theater provides.