You could find worse ways to spend the next 6-7 hours than by watching the entire trilogy. (You could probably find much, much worse ways to spend the next 6-7 hours, actually. But why are you looking for really, really bad ways to spend the next 6-7 hours, anyway?)
There's plenty of Wingo's (trademark?) digital manipulation and distortion going on in there, right? And it features the subtle undercurrent of hope (musically) that makes the film's finale so endearing (cinematically). And I think it's especially effective following upon the general unease of the film's (cinematic and melodic) themes. But is there anything else in there that you recognize?
The moment I read that paragraph, an opening sprang to mind. It's not one I typically think of, to be honest, but the fact that it was a near-instantaneous response must have been a sign of ...something? (Reading a bit further, I was pleased to note that Insdorf includes it). Which opening, you ask?
Wise words from Jeffrey Overstreet: "If there's been anything lacking on the big screen in recent years, it's fun. And this may not amount to more than the sum of its genre-crazy parts, but it felt like seeing a glorious big-screen rendition of one of the stories I wrote when I was a kid. And for that, I'm grateful."
I find myself enjoying the setting and individual sections of it quite a bit more than the overall package. Mostly, I'm looking at you, Jemaine Clement and "Shiny;" and you, Dwayne Johnson and nearly every moment of your screen time; and you, Lin-Manuel Miranda and your lyrical gymnastics in such charming, ear-wormy songs as "Opetaia Foa'i (We Know The Way);" and you, Crazy Alan Tudyk's crazy rooster; and you, entire first act. So, yeah, lots of things to enjoy.
A wonderful examination of the ever-shifting relationship between a father and son, it's based on "The Last Hippie" (the second story in renowned neurologist Oliver Sacks' "An Anthropologist On Mars: Seven Paradoxical Tales" anthology), and it features the subtlest, finest J.K. Simmons' performance I've ever seen.
The third (and best and hardest to watch) is Let There Be Light. Made in 1946, it "follows 75 U.S. soldiers who sustained debilitating emotional trauma and depression. A series of scenes chronicle their entry into a psychiatric hospital, their treatment and eventual recovery." It's a tough and valuable film, but its subject matter is so demoralizing that was banned by the Army for some 30+ years.