Again things hold true to form, even as the new replaces the old. The faces may change but certain patterns still persist rarely deviating from the cliches. No matter what and predictably typical of very bad ensemble acting, the broadly-painted cast consists of the usual suspects as usual. A three-hour tour that began a fortnight ago except this latest sequel strands the skipper and Gilligan "plus the computer geek...the gothic chick...a southern belle, and the rest."
Not that this is necessarily a negative situation so much as a self-fulfilling prophecy gone awry. It is like slowly stripping away very aged wallpaper: just when you think the layer removed will reveal bare wall, inevitably what appears is only another and more obstinate layer. That pretty much describes the slow process of discovery to nurture, grow and coax creative approaches to heretofore worn ground. Old habits die hard so the trick is to open eyes, flooding the mental plain until fertile soil is drowned.
Which is why the way things go appropriately stammers any group into slack-jawed acquiesence. Love it or hate it, mesmerized or bored to nap, thought ballons do suddenly materialize.