There is something to be said about the cycle of sci-fi films made in the late 1960s and early ‘70s. While the decades to come would be defined by Star Wars pew-pews, for a little while there, the genre was fixated almost wholly on grim cynicism, downbeat endings, and unadulterated dystopia. I’m a sucker for all that jazz, even when it’s at its silliest. That would be your “Soylent Green is people!” films or the sequels to Chuck Heston crying, “Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape!” This could also explain why I sat with a smile for nearly all 157 minutes of Francis Lawrence’s The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes. It’s grandiose, kooky, and sometimes cruel. But despite being adapted from a YA book, this gray universe imagined by Suzanne Collins still feels refreshingly adult in our own modern multiplex land of bread and circuses.