Through a Glass, Darkly

On Sunday night, Mike and I watched Little Manhattan with his second mom and another one of her “sons” she’s taken in. (She is a very loving person. As I am sure you can tell.) Mike had very specific requirements about watching a movie with his second mom: he wanted it to be clean/family-friendly, he wanted it to be about New York, and he wanted it to be something he had already been wanting to see. Miraculously, such a movie existed. Little Manhattan is the story of ten-and-three-quarters year old Gabe, who loves eleven-year-old Rosemary. I don’t tend to have a lot of patience for children’s movies, but this one was so sweet that I couldn’t help myself. Gabe’s parents, played by Cynthia Nixon and Bradley Whitford, also had a poignant story, and we enjoyed seeing all the places we had just been walking around. If you are in the mood for something sweet and clean, give this a try. Warning: there is a lot of puking in the beginning. Apparently love makes you puke. If you’re ten.

When we got home Monday night, we watched Lars and the Real Girl, which we have both been wanting to see for quite a while. This is the story of Lars, played by Ryan Gosling, who is a nice guy, but who can’t really engage with the people around him. He purchases a doll on the internet. You know the kind of doll I mean. Her name is Bianca, and he introduces her to everyone as his girlfriend. As you can imagine, this alarms his family and friends. I expected to like it, but I did not expect to love it as much as I did. The secret is that this movie isn’t really as silly as it sounds, nor is it anything like what it sounds like when I say, “A lonely guy bought a sex doll on the internet.” Instead it’s a beautiful story of the community around Lars and how much they love him and how it changes them all. I cried. A lot. This one didn’t get a lot of publicity when it came out, and it’s kind of hard to explain, but it really is as wonderful as everyone keeps saying.

Gentle readers, this is a post from Mike. Enjoy.

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Here’s a first. Greetings to all of Kari’s dedicated readers. As you may know, Kari tagged me yesterday on the movie post. I remember talking to her on the way home from Ben and Jerry’s Friday night trying to come up with what our favorite movies were. I did agree that one of the greatest joys we will have in raising children would be introducing them to incredible cinematic masterpieces. I do not see us showing The Wizard of Oz to our 5 year-old child. They just wouldn’t get it. They would not understand the importance of it. How it changed cinema as well as the lives of innumerable children for close to a century. The same goes for Citizen Kane. And To Kill a Mockingbird. The latter two are important works, but they need to be understood and prefaced before any viewing is done.

Have I gotten off the subject? Hang with me. The movies on our list will be monumental moments in our lives (and hopefully our children’s lives), so they cannot be shown lightly. These movies are very important to us and can’t be shown in the same way our child might watch Finding Nemo or Toy Story. We want to instill a deep respect for cinema and how cinema has an immense impact on those who value it.

It was tough coming up with this list because I have to leave off so many important films. Important in the history of cinema and important in my life as well. I don’t know if the Coen Brothers will make the list, but their movies are incredible (Raising Arizona was the first PG-13 movie I saw—I snuck into the theater with a friend). And what about the guy movies? How do I choose between Braveheart, The Matrix, and Gladiator? They can’t all be on the list because I need room for comedies and musicals. Musicals? Yeah, musicals. To without further ado:

The rules are as follows:
1. List your top ten favorite films in no particular order.
2. If you’re tagged, post your list and tag 3-5 other people.
3. Link back to the person who tagged you.
4. Give a hat tip (HT) to Dan.

• The Godfather Parts I and II: When I saw Once back in August, it dawned on me that movies can be adopted as your outlook on important areas of your life. I came up with 5 categories: God/Religion, Family, Relationships, Music, and Humanity. If I could pick one movie for each area, what would it be? The Godfather movies would represent my outlook on family. I want to be the kind of father that would do anything to protect my family, to stick up for what I believe it right. These movies are marvels to watch and study.

Dan, you are looking dapper today.

• The Princess Bride: I was very tempted to make sure Kari and I didn’t have any movies that agreed in our top ten. That way we would have 20 different movies that we just could not wait to show our kids. However, there a couple of choices that I could not leave off, no matter how much I wanted to twist the data. This is a perfect movie. The grandpa got it right when he said, “Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles.” The movie has it all. It is inconceivable how a movie could be this good.

• High Fidelity: “My desert island, all-time, top-five most memorable breakups, in chronological order, are as follows:” Most of us have them: Breakups, heartaches, meltdowns. This movie is the movie that represents my outlook on relationships. Rob’s blundering, self-centered actions that lead to some gray self-revelation about what love might be strikes a chord (where do I come up with these). And this might be Jack Black’s best role ever.

• 12 Monkeys: I love apocalyptic films. When I was making that other list back in August, I had to choose what movie would represent my view on humanity. This was one of the two movies that were in the running. (Would I choose hopeful or apocalyptic?) I love that 5 billion people died and just a handful of humans are left. There’s time-travel and scary music. Brad Pitt is amazing and not at all attractive in this roll. I’d like to put 2 Terry Gilliam works on this list, but I don’t know if it will work out. This was my all-time favorite movie for quite a number of years (you notice how all-time lists change so frequently?), but I think The Godfather could have eclipsed it. As an added bonus, let me tell you that this movie is even more enjoyable in black and white.

• Pulp Fiction: I wouldn’t show this to my children until they were much older, but I would show it to them. This is a fun movie. And it’s stylish. And it has so many layers. With its homage to great cinematic directors, its out-of-sync plot, its Tarantino dialogue and its attention to details, you can’t help but get something new from this movie each time you watch it.

• Millions: Another movie that Kari and I agree on. This movie is on that other list I mentioned earlier. This movie represents my outlook on Religion and God.

• Braveheart: I don’t know if this movie will age well. I could see it falling off the list at some point. However, for right now, this movie had an incredible impact on me. It impacted several of my friendships over the years. There is something powerful about watching this movie with your guy friends. Kind of like Gladiator and The Matrix (which could easily be on this list had I had honorable mentions).

• Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb: One of the funniest movies I have ever seen. I laugh so hard I cry when I watch this movie. “Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here! This is the War Room.” Brilliant.

• Guys and Dolls: I promised you all a musical. Marlon Brando is incredible in this film. This is a man’s musical if there is such a thing. It’s about a floating crap game and love. I mean how can you resist gamblers spontaneously bursting into song? You can’t!

I honestly don’t know what to put in the last spot. Back to the Future, The Lord of the Rings, Garden State, Brazil, A David Fincher film, a romantic comedy, Heat, The Shawshank Redemption, that movie that I chose as my outlook on humanity (the one that one out over 12 Monkeys)? After much deliberation and much sadness that this list has to end, I give you the last movie to make the list:

• Miller’s Crossing: What is the Coen Brothers’ best film? You can make a case for No Country For Old Men and for Barton Fink and possibly Fargo or The Big Lebowski, but Miller’s Crossing? No. However, I love gangster films and they do a fantastic job with their tribute to the gangster genre. I love how the Coens construct their films and feel that it truly works in this genre. This movie isn’t quotable like many of their other films, but it is beautiful to watch. Many of their go-to actors are in this film, including a brilliant performance by John Turturro. Do you remember that scene in Home Alone when Kevin decides to watch that movie his parents didn’t want him to watch? Remember that mob boss? Well, Albert Finney’s performance really reminds me of that crazy guy who gives you to the count of ten to get out of his office. He just plays the mob boss to perfection. “You ain’t got a license to kill bookies and today I ain’t sellin’. So take your flunky and dangle.”

Thanks for tagging me Kari. I have enjoyed discovering many a good film with you. I look forward to finding more movies that could possibly wind up making this list.

But Geof has asked me to do it once again.

The rules are as follows:

1. List your top ten favorite films in no particular order.
2. If you’re tagged, post your list and tag 3-5 other people.
3. Link back to the person who tagged you.
4. Give a hat tip (HT) to Dan.

Dan, may I just say, you are looking particularly lovely today. Whoever you are.

After some discussion, Mike and I determined that our definition of our favorite movies includes movies that we would be especially excited about showing our kids because they represent something about who we are. For example, I look forward to showing our kids The Wizard of Oz and The Princess Bride, but The Princess Bride shaped me in ways that The Wizard of Oz didn’t, so it goes on the list. But we’ll get to that in a minute.

Also, Mike and I have a constant debate on whether the Pride and Prejudice miniseries can be included on lists like these. I say yes, and he says, “No, it’s not cinema. It’s a miniseries.” (He really does say that. Cinema.) I have not included it on this list, but it’s there in spirit. Michael.

-About a Boy. This movie means something to me because of what it says about relationships and people in our lives. The first time I saw it, the conversation at the end deeply affected me, when Will says that if other people can make you happy, they can also make you unhappy. I remember thinking, “Yes, that is it exactly!” And then sweet Marcus does exactly what I would never do and goes out on the stage anyway, because he knows that the secret of life is that you need backup. You need those people around you who will make sacrifices for you when you need them to. I am not good at putting myself out there, and that is a lesson I need to learn just as much as Will did.

-Millions. I do not know a better movie about faith and belief and making a difference in the world.

-The (original) Star Wars Trilogy. Mike said this would not be on his list. Which made me feel like such a nerd. But I watched The Return of the Jedi over and over and over (we taped it off TV) and I read the novels and there’s just something about this story that I find so amazing. It still makes me feel like a kid to watch it. These days I can’t really watch Star Wars: A New Hope because it’s so exposition-heavy, but I don’t get tired of Empire or Jedi. For the record, since we talked about showing movies to our kids . . . our kids will watch them in this order: 4, 5, 6, Last 30 minutes of 3. We will just be pretending 1 and 2 don’t exist.

-The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I know, everyone has this on their list. But I think about how I felt when I saw them, and I know they make the cut. The waiting in line, the first time I saw the Shire, the way it cemented my eternal love of Theoden. One of my favorite books, and while I disagree with some of Peter Jackson’s choices, his love of the material comes through, and that is enough for me.

-The Princess Bride. I feel like this movie shaped an entire generation’s sense of humor. It certainly helped shape mine. The first time I saw it, at a church lock-in, I thought, “That was strange.” But I wanted to see it again. The book is wonderful and hilarious, but this movie is something special, just the right combination of humor and sincerity.

-Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I chose not to do the whole (original) trilogy because this is my favorite, the one I have seen the most, and the one that I would be most excited about watching as a family. The Indiana Jones mythology, the father and son relationship, and the awesomeness of the tasks at the end. I love it all.

-Dave. This was a huge movie in my family. The scene where Dave balances the budget taps into those feelings I have deep, deep down that nice people really can change the world. Since I’m so cynical about politics and people, it’s good for me to watch an unabashedly inspirational movie like this from time to time. Also, it’s hilarious. The ending drives Mike crazy because he finds it completely unbelievable (sure, the rest of the movie is totally something that could happen?) but my unabashedly inspirational self just can’t resist it.

-Sabrina. There’s, uh, a lot of Harrison Ford on this list, have you noticed? I’m not sure this movie is particularly good, but it is my go-to movie when I can’t sleep. It comforts me. We watched it a few weeks ago and I was fascinated by Linus . . . is everything he says to Sabrina a lie? When does it become the truth? Is there a moment when things change even though he doesn’t realize it? I haven’t decided yet.

-You’ve Got Mail. This is a movie that was just okay when it came out, but now I totally fall for Kathleen Kelly and the way that she must now define who she is as a woman without her mother’s store. I cry a lot more than I used to. Especially when the store closes. “We have loved being part of your lives.” I love the way that this is, in part, a movie about the way that books move us.

I hesitated quite a bit over what the last movie would be. Notting Hill? No, it doesn’t move me quite like some of the others. Little Miss Sunshine? Love it, but something kept me from including it. The Whale Rider? That’s a movie with a powerful message, but I don’t think it would be in my top ten.

And so . . . the tenth film for inclusion is . . .

-Pieces of April. I used to think the ending was abrupt, but when I watched it last Thanksgiving, I realized that it was the way that the family will remember holidays from now on: in bits and pieces. That’s how I remember my dad’s last Christmas, in snapshots. I don’t feel like an outcast in my own family, but I need to hear the message about what family means, to be reminded that we have to take advantage of that while we can. I cry watching this one now, which shouldn’t be a surprise. But it’s a good sort of cry.

My three people to tag are Mike (I will post his answers here), Melissa, and Bethany.

Almost every morning, I come downstairs and find my travel mug cleaned out and draining beside our sink. It is especially difficult to open, and Mike knows that, so he opens it almost every morning and cleans out yesterday’s coffee. It’s one of my favorite morning things, to turn the kitchen corner and see my mug sitting there. I appreciate how Mike takes care of the little things, and as we have been searching for a house, I see how much of that falls on him as well. Mostly because he has more time, but that doesn’t mean I appreciate it any less.

Looking for a house is difficult - when we bought this house, it was kind of like choosing my wedding dress. I “knew” that was the right dress, and we “knew” this was the right house. This time around, things are a little bit more complicated, and we have been weighing what we want and who we think we are more than we did the last time. We think we have settled on a house, though. We are going to go look at it again tomorrow and probably decide for sure. We are thankful to have people who are helping us make a good decision, but it also makes me miss my dad.

We went to one of the older theaters in town to see Indiana Jones today. It just seemed right, to see it without stadium seating or big fancy surround sound. I wouldn’t call it the best Indiana Jones movie (that’s Raiders, of course) or my favorite (that’s Last Crusade), but it was good, uncomplicated fun. Parts of it were a little overly silly, but I enjoyed myself and had a good time. Also, it was only $8.00 for both of us. I bet you paid more than $8.00 for one ticket! My dad has been on my mind lately because of this movie coming out. I don’t know exactly when I saw my first Indiana Jones movie, but I think that it was when we rented the VHS of Raiders and Temple of Doom one time when my dad and I were both sick. Seeing them when we were both sick always made Indiana Jones feel like something special that my dad and I shared (in between puking our guts out). (Temple of Doom did not exactly make me feel better, let me tell you.) The first time I saw the trailer for the new movie, I cried a little bit, because it made me miss him and because it was weird that there was another movie and he wouldn’t be here to see it. I think he would have thought the same thing I did - fun movie. A little bit silly, but fun.

When Mike was still getting up a whole lot later than I was, we put a little travel clock in the bathroom so that I wouldn’t have to open the door and disturb him with bright blinding bathroom light to know what time it was in the mornings. Now that he and I get up at essentially the same time, the clock is somewhat less important. Which explains, somewhat, why I didn’t reset it after the time change in November. Now, suddenly, the clock is right again. It sure used to seem longer between the two. (I know it literally WAS longer, but . . . not THAT much longer.)

This week at my library, I moved things around. This is a shocking turn of events for those who know me, because I never move anything around at my house. Ever. I don’t even understand the motivation to move things around. This is how the furniture fits in this room. I thought it through before I put it here, and here it will stay. End of story. But, no! At work, I am a whole different person, one who moves shelves around (okay, no, before you ask, I did not move a shelf by myself. Or at all. But I had someone else move it for me)! And shifts books! And cleans out old artwork! (By old, I mean the students who created it are now in college!) And hangs up new posters! I rock and roll. People keep walking in the door and then stopping, confused. But, overall, I think it looks great. Don’t worry, though. I won’t be trying it at home.

Earlier this week, I watched No Country For Old Men. The deal was that Mike, who saw the movie when it was in theaters, would warn me before any violent deaths. The problem is that lately, every time we put in a movie, Mike falls asleep almost instantly. While he got me through most of it, he missed the ending. Luckily, I am quite experienced at looking away, so I never saw anything I didn’t want to see (though I probably looked away for about 25% of the movie). It’s not the sort of thing I usually like, but what I did like about it was that, though it was violent, it wasn’t, to me, a movie that was promoting senseless violence. I haven’t read much Cormac McCarthy, but his books seem to be the opposite of that as they deal with themes of life and death. Instead, I think this was a movie about the progression of time and how we as a society seem to . . . almost revel in violence, as evidenced by slasher films. It was like a mirror to the audience, causing us to question the function of violence as entertainment. I also appreciated the treatment of death (it had to be death, because it is, after all, Cormac McCarthy) and how death is coming for us all. Though justice was not served, it did serve as a reminder to accept mortality and not to “blink” (as Tommy Lee Jones said he had) and miss the life that we were given. And while I was writing this, I think I just talked myself into reading the book.

Last night, I was struck by how much more time Mike and I spend together these days. We carpooled yesterday and today, we had dinner at a restaurant close to my school last night and then went to the art sale/show at my school. This week we watched movies and took walks and . . . so much of this is why I switched jobs in the first place. Now it’s time for Friday Night Pizza and the ACC tournament. Life these days? Not so bad.

I didn’t say very much about it at the time, but Once was my favorite movie of last year, hands down. We went and saw it one Saturday in August, and Mike went and saw it again the next day. And we spent the rest of the fall and winter listening to the soundtrack (actually, I am still listening to it) and counting the days until it came out on DVD. “Falling Slowly” was my favorite movie scene from last year, too - one of those scenes where you know something magical is happening and you are suddenly mesmerized. I was ecstatic when they won the Oscar, because I like to have my opinions validated by others. And because it was such a moving song in such a moving scene that it deserved to be recognized. And I have been sharing my copy of the movie with teachers at my school. I would compare it to a drug, like crack, but drug references are frowned upon.

One of our friends has fallen very ill in the past few weeks, which has been incredibly sad. Even having been through this sort of thing, I am not very good with knowing how to help people who are very sick. So I made pumpkin chocolate chip muffins tonight, his favorite. I want to fix things, or at least to be useful. We took his favorite flowers on Sunday, and Mike worked on his computer yesterday, and he’ll get some muffins tomorrow. I guess that’s not so bad. I just wish that I could put some magical healing mojo into the muffins along with the chocolate chips.

I have been reading a whole lot lately, but I haven’t really written anything up. I even read a graphic novel for my class: American Born Chinese. Overall, I have to say that graphic novels are not really my thing, but it was very good, and had a great message. I also enjoyed Monster by Walter Dean Myers. I ended up liking it a lot more than I thought I would. I have read about the same amount of books as last year, but I have to confess that more of them are young adult books than last year. However, I am also reading articles for my classes. And Entertainment Weekly. Which I seem to mention in every post.

Did you know that Mike is almost done with his student teaching? It’s true. Can you believe that?

Mike has been playing some of the Counting Crows’ new songs, and I have to say, they are not bad. I put a moratorium on the Counting Crows a few years ago and refused to listen to any of their songs. Because they only had four albums. And Mike played those four albums constantly. And I had to put a stop to it. He’s been sneaking them back into our playlist, though. He thinks I haven’t noticed, but I have. And, actually, it’s nice to hear those songs again. I was even singing some Counting Crows last week to myself. I just needed a break. A nice, long break. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.

Tomorrow is a very long day, so I am going to head to bed very soon.

Cookie Monster interviewed on NPR. It’s as delightful as you would hope.

The “In Character” feature on NPR got me thinking . . . who is my favorite fictional character? Though it can be from literature, film, television, or song, they specifically want it to be American, so my first thought, Anne Shirley, isn’t an option. I mulled it over. Lord Peter Wimsey, for his humor and the way he uses it to deflect his true feelings, also isn’t an option. Neither is Elizabeth Bennet, though I always think she is just a little too clever to be my friend. In fact, most of my childhood favorites aren’t eligible: Bilbo Baggins (though I think he’s more admirable than affecting), Lucy Pevensie (now I think she’s kind of annoying, to be honest), Neville Longbottom (I didn’t read him when I was a kid, but I would take him over Harry Potter any day of the week). I admire Laura Ingalls and Jo March, but there’s also a distance between us in how tomboyish they are. I love a lot of TV shows, but none of the women I can think of seem quite well-rounded enough: Rory and Lorelai Gilmore, Monica Geller, Veronica Mars, Lindsay Weir, Angela Chase. Now, Claire Huxtable, maybe, for the way that she works, parents, and can kick your butt at the same time. A lot of my favorite movie characters seem a little too old and cosmopolitan: Kathleen Kelly, Sabrina Fairchild. Maybe I could go the obvious route and choose Atticus or Scout Finch, but though I admire that book more than I can say, I wouldn’t choose those characters (though I plan to reread it this year, so maybe I will change my mind). I can’t decide if Mary Russell is American enough. She’s anther who’s probably a little too smart to be my friend.

In the end, I think my favorite fictional character is Vicky Austin. Perhaps since Madeleine L’Engle felt so close to Vicky, there’s something more real and fallible about her than other characters. I know what it’s like to need time alone, to lose yourself in a book. I know what it’s like to feel as if you don’t measure up, to feel awkward and unsure. And I know what it’s like to have big questions about life and death and suffering. Madeleine L’Engle, through Vicky, taught me that those questions are okay, that they aren’t incompatible with a life of faith. It’s because of Vicky that my favorite Psalm is 121. I still, like Vicky, am learning what it means to be me.

I do really like cookies, though. So maybe I should have just gone with Cookie Monster.

(Best Documentary Short is the pertinent category. My cousin edited that movie.)

Unless you live under a rock, you know that the Oscar nominations came out today. I was excited to see the nominations for Juno (which I loved), Once (the scene with “Falling Slowly” was my favorite scene of the whole year; heck, that was my favorite movie of the year), and Atonement (my favorite book from last year, and a darn good movie).

But I was especially excited to see that the movie that my cousin edited, Freeheld, was nominated in the short documentary category! Yay!

(Also, his wife is due at any moment. And her book will be out in May. You should preorder it! It’s a young adult book about horses! You love young adult books about horses!)

It’s the Christmas season, and you know what that means: It’s time for my annual It’s a Wonderful Life bashing. Only, this time, Time magazine is making my points for me.

In the holiday classic It’s A Wonderful Life, George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) sees what life would have been like had he never been born. His brother would be dead, his wife a spinster, Bedford Falls a hellhole, albeit one with more interesting nightlife.

So Bedford Falls needs George Bailey. But the rest of us? Not so into him anymore. Don’t get me wrong: I like Wonderful Life–the dance contest, the romance, the seductive mystery of Violet Bick. But isn’t there something a little oppressive about it? To me, a former small-town kid, it’s a tragedy, about a man whose dreams are beaten down by his needy, parochial, busybody neighbors. I want to yell at the screen, “You go on that honeymoon, George Bailey! Tell that cabdriver to floor it and never look back!”

On Friday night, Mike watched It’s a Wonderful Life while I hid upstairs. I was, unfortunately, downstairs when George and Mary were getting married, and when she begged him not to stop at the Savings & Loan before their honeymoon. You guys, how am I supposed to root for George Bailey when his new wife is asking him to GO ON HIS HONEYMOON and he REFUSES BECAUSE OF . . . I don’t know why he refuses, actually. Does he like being a martyr? Does he like playing the hero? Or is he just that codependent? Oh, Mary. I can’t decide whether you should have known this would happen or whether you should have gotten an annulment. (As I say every year, I am a small-town kid, too, and I just want George to get out of there. Just once.)

Anyway, the Time article has statistics that show that, these days, the most popular Christmas movie among those 18-41 is A Christmas Story. But, actually, I don’t care for that one, either. I don’t dislike it strongly enough to write yearly diatribes on it, but . . . it makes me uncomfortable, and I don’t find it funny. It probably makes a difference that i never saw it until I was in college, that we all seem to gravitate to the movies that represent what Christmas was like for us as kids. The list of Christmas movies I have to watch is a pretty short one: the cartoon Grinch, Charlie Brown, A Muppet Christmas Carol. Is there anyone in my corner? Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about? hee hee hee.

As the credits for Waitress were rolling, a woman on our row turned to her husband and said, “That was the weirdest movie I’ve ever seen.” She needs to get out more, because it’s not even the strangest movie I’ve seen this year.

On the row in front of us was a man from our church, and on the way out he said that he normally goes for movies with a little more realism.

I, on the other hand, cried my way through the last fifteen minutes, wishing I hadn’t left my Kleenex in the car to free up space in my purse for sneaking in our drinks. To me, Jenna’s relationship with Earl seemed all too real. I’ve seen friends lose themselves in relationships. I’ve seen friends become shadows of themselves as they succumb to their boyfriends’ constant criticisms. I’ve seen friends lose their spark as their husbands show no interest in anything that doesn’t specifically pertain to them. It was so easy to imagine how the same could have happened to Jenna. The story was a little fanciful, sure, but it completely sucked me in.

I don’t think it’s giving away anything to say that this movie deals with infidelity, since it’s in the previews. I normally have a hard time with that kind of movie (see: my discomfort with Lost in Translation), but I knew going in that that was what the movie was about, so I don’t think I can fault it for that. What I liked about the way that it was handled is that I didn’t feel like I had to get sucked in to that plot to be able to appreciate its effects on Jenna. I could disapprove of her actions while also seeing her grow into a person who believed she could be valued.

This paragraph has slight spoilers, so here’s where you should move on if you are wanting to see it. What I liked the most was that, in the end, the baby was enough to give her the strength to do what was right. She didn’t need money, she didn’t need a guy. She had grown enough to know what she needed to do. As a woman, I liked the ambivalence Jenna had about the baby, her questions about what she would be able to give a baby when she didn’t have all those things worked out for herself.

And as a North Carolinian, I, of course, loved Andy Griffith.

Maybe it was just the case of the right movie hitting me at the right time. Goodness knows I have cried enough this weekend - through the last few chapters of Half-Blood Prince, through the end of Waitress, upon getting some disappointing news. I can understand why some people wouldn’t like it - it wasn’t perfect by any means, and several times it seemed unsure of what kind of movie it wanted to be. I can’t help it. I just flat-out loved it in spite of all that.

And I now feel really compelled to learn how to make pie.

After not really liking the Narnia movie, I decided to put a ban on movies made from my favorite childhood books. No How to Eat Fried Worms. No Charlotte’s Web. And, after seeing the trailer, definitely no Bridge to Terabithia.

I have always thought that Bridge to Terabithia was a very special book. Part of that is because it was given to me by my aunt on my tenth (I think it was tenth) birthday, along with several other Newbery books like It’s Like This, Cat. The other reason I think it’s special is that it seems such an intimate story, not one that I have ever wanted to talk about. I wouldn’t want to spoil my own emotional response to the story by overthinking it. And I definitely wouldn’t want to see a movie that sacrifices the story of their friendship for some snazzy special effects.

This morning, I read this story on Slate about the movie, which I enjoyed very much. It links to this interview Katherine Paterson did with Christianity today, and if you were considering seeing the movie, I highly recommend you read that interview. It is excellent. She, too, calls it a “private” book, and I don’t think I can explain my feelings about it any better than that.

To be honest, her interview has almost convinced me that I might want to see the movie after all, that it’s not so bad. But I think, in the end, the images I want to keep in my head are the ones I still remember my ten-year-old self conjuring up of Leslie and Jesse in Terabithia.

The trailer for Becoming Jane is up. It looks wildly inaccurate (based on what little I have read of Jane Austen’s letters) and I found the Little Women music distracting (that’s what that is, right? I think so), but there’s no point in me saying that I won’t go see it. We all know that I will. It is, after all, a movie based on Jane Austen herself, no matter how loosely. And I’ll probably enjoy it for what it is, much as I did for the recent Pride and Prejudice. It has Maggie Smith! And Julie Walters! I’m shameless, I know.

It’s supposed to come out August 3 . . . though it may take longer to get to my area. Anybody in?

Mike and Andrea and I went and saw The Holiday, which I was hesitantly looking forward to. I mean, on one hand, the trailer made it look super-cute! And it has Kate Winslet in it! I love her! On the other hand: Cameron Diaz. Back to that first hand: Jack Black! He’s funny! And that second hand again: skeevy Jude Law.

The movie itself was fine – probably not a classic (though it could grow on me like You’ve Got Mail did), but well-executed and cute. When I got home, I had some banter with friends about it, and that was it. Except. I read this article by Richard Roeper, and hoo boy did it rub me the wrong way.

Now, let me start off by saying that I am not a huge fan of Richard Roeper, mostly because of an article he wrote for the Sun-Times in which he responded to those Dove “Campaign for Real Beauty” ads by saying things like this:

But the raw truth is, I find these Dove ads a little unsettling. If I want to see plump gals baring too much skin, I’ll go to Taste of Chicago, OK? I’ll walk down Michigan Avenue or go to Navy Pier. When we’re talking women in their underwear on billboards outside my living room windows, give me the fantasy babes, please.

If that makes me sound superficial, shallow and sexist — well yes, I’m a man.

Well. Aren’t you charming. And I know I’m way behind the times in responding to him, but , to me, the idea that those women are chunky and not worthy of admiration is the whole point of the campaign! They looked like women who took care of themselves but who weren’t supermodel-thin. The whole idea was, I think, to challenge our culture’s idea of beauty. I thought that the women in those ads were beautiful, but apparently Richard Roeper couldn’t get past a little flab.

So, with that said, you can see why, right off the bat, I am inclined to take the things he says about women the wrong way. Maybe that’s what the problem is here, but when he calls Amanda “shrill, work-obsessed and apparently frigid,” it raised my hackles quite a bit. Then he goes on to belittle the concept behind the movie – swapping houses for a couple of weeks. “Just because it’s based in reality,” he says, “doesn’t make it a good idea.” I know people who have swapped houses. With no problems. Strike two.

And then, at the end, he spends a lot of time talking about how beautiful one of the secondary characters is, excusing it because he’s a “cad.” This is right after he admittedly engages in gender stereotyping about how no man would choose to see the movie on his own (tell that to the man who sat ALONE on the row in front of us, Richard).

The one thing I found most telling is that he compares this movie unfavorably to another feel-good holiday romantic comedy – Love Actually. I like Love Actually, but I think it had some plotting problems (too many stories, not enough time). The real thing that I wanted to point out, though, is that I know a lot of women who had a lot of problems with Love Actually because of the gender roles. The majority of women in it are secretaries or assistants or housekeepers, and they (of course) fall in love with the men who are “over” them. Well, isn’t that a lovely idea for a movie? Do you think Richard Roeper would have liked Amanda a little better if she hadn’t been an independent businesswoman? Do you think that if Amanda’s character had been a male who worked a lot and was maybe too busy to have sex, he would have seen it as a bad thing? I’m not sure, either, and that’s what I find so troubling.

Look, everyone’s entitled to his or her opinion, but what this review says to me is that Roeper doesn’t like these kinds of movies (not to mention the fact that I’m not sure he likes women all that much, at least not unless they are airbrushed and servile), which probably means he’s probably not the best guy to write a review of it. It says a lot to me that most of the women I know who have seen The Holiday were on the, “I enjoyed it,” end of the spectrum. I have said before, in regards to books, that if I don’t like a certain kind of book, I shouldn’t criticize it for following the norms of that particular genre, whether I like it or not. Would Richard Roeper criticize an action film for having things that blow up and a big showdown scene at the end? Should this movie be criticized for its “standard” scenes? I don’t write reviews on thrillers (books OR movies) because I don’t appreciate them enough to do them justice. I think that, just maybe, just because Richard Roeper has an opinion . . . doesn’t mean it’s worth sharing. (And, I know, maybe neither is mine, but I’m not getting paid to write this stuff. hehe.)

I don’t think The Holiday was the greatest movie I saw all year, but I think it did what it aimed to do, and it did it well. It managed to keep me from being annoyed with Cameron Diaz and kept the Jude Law skeeze factor to a minimum. Kate Winslet was gorgeous and hilarious as usual. Maybe I won’t remember it in 20 years, but . . . is it possible that I paid for my ticket just wanting to see a well-executed romantic comedy with pretty people who make me smile? Because I feel like I got my money’s worth. No matter what Richard Roeper thinks.

And I said, “What about Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”
He said, “I think I remember the film,
And as I recall I think
I liked it but you preferred the book.”
And I said, “Well, I guess our relationship is doomed.”

Just kidding! Our relationship isn’t based on mutual admiration of an Audrey Hepburn movie!

I read Breakfast at Tiffany’s the other night, and since Mike has never managed to make it all the way through the movie without falling asleep, he decided we should watch it immediately after I finished (since it was still early enough that he just might make it). On one hand, Audrey Hepburn was fantastic. On the other, it was a completely different story than the book, and I think they would have best been enjoyed as separate entities. I did like the story of the book better, to be honest. I think the movie was (mostly) enjoyable as a movie, and I’m glad that I have finally seen it. Mike liked the movie a lot, though, so at least I enabled him to watch it.

Other movies viewed this week: Love Actually (my second time seeing it, Mike’s first) and Little Miss Sunshine (still great, even knowing the punchline). I like it when Mike doesn’t have homework to do in the evenings.

Our compromise on holidays has generally been to spend Thanksgiving with Mike’s sister and Christmas with my family. We did this for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it’s honestly the most convenient thing. I had been known to pay lip service to the fact that Thanksgiving is more important in Mike’s family than it is in mine, but it wasn’t until last year that I really started to get that. Last year, for some reason, we didn’t go see Mike’s sister, so we spent the holiday with my family. That means going to my grandma’s house for potluck, which may or may not include all of Mike’s required dishes. And then, on Friday, we made our own turkey, Mike’s family’s stuffing, mashed potatoes, etc. Just for the two of us. Just so Mike could eat leftovers for the rest of the week, since that’s part of the whole Thanksgiving experience.

Even that didn’t really make me get it, though. It wasn’t until this year, when, again, Mike spent all day Friday working on a turkey so that we could have leftovers this week. This year I helped with the stuffing (and, as mentioned before, made another sweet potato casserole, which definitely should make me Mike’s favorite wife ever).

It’s interesting to me that it took me so long to realize how important this holiday is to him. I mean, I knew it, but I didn’t get it. Since it’s . . . a holiday I enjoy but not one that’s hugely important to me, I didn’t get it. My memories of Thanksgiving center around my grandma’s house, all of us being together, lots of food. My mom has three brothers and one sister who live in North Carolina, and I think almost all of them do another Thanksgiving elsewhere, so it’s not really necessary for us to have a fancy turkey dinner. We usually do have a turkey breast and dressing (not stuffing), but . . . it’s not the same as being at Mike’s sister’s house, with all the hustle and bustle.

Mike’s childhood Thanksgivings were apparently a big affair, with a huge turkey, starting the stuffing earlier in the week, enormous side dishes (so there were plenty of leftovers), appetizers, desserts . . . much more traditional than my family’s experience. When my other grandmother was alive, I think we did the more traditional dinner with her, but she got very sick and we didn’t see her on holidays after I was nine or ten, so I don’t really remember that very well. What I’m saying is that the sheer volume of food at Mike’s sister’s house was pretty shocking to me that first year we spent Thanskgiving with her. I think I brought cheesy potatoes (frozen shredded potatoes layered with onions and cheese (and salt and pepper), with heavy cream poured over them. mmmmmm) and Mike was like, “That’s fine, but people will probably just eat mashed potatoes.” Oh. (He was right.)

So we keep trying to move forward, to make the holidays special as well as making them our own, and this year, again, that meant making our own turkey as we put up our Christmas decorations, which I was happy to help with. It’s funny how I’m still learning these things.

People have been very kind this year about Thanksgiving and the holiday season. I thought about that a lot on Saturday, when we went to see a matinee of Stranger Than Fiction. Going to see Stranger Than Fiction was a big deal for us, though, because earlier this year, we realized that neither of us had ever seen a Will Ferrell movie in the theater. Seeing this movie meant breaking that streak, which was kind of a big deal, since we were pretty proud of the fact that we’d never seen one of his movies in the theater. I even told Mike, right when the movie started, that we still had time to walk out. But we elected to stay.

I had been wanting to see it, mostly because of how much I love Emma Thompson, and I think I liked it better than it actually deserved. It’s another one of those movies that struck a chord with me, that hit me at the right time so that the way I feel about the movie has a little bit more to do with my own current emotional state than how good the movie itself was. (See also: Elizabethtown.) It’s not that I thought it was bad, though, not by any means. I enjoyed the story and the characters, but even more than that, I liked what it said about life and gratitude and . . . those things made it the perfect movie for Thanksgiving weekend. At the end, Emma Thompson has a voiceover about being thankful for small things in life, things like cookies and noseplugs and the hand of someone you love, which was a good reminder for me.

I am a little bit afraid that this journal is turning into “Kari Reviews Everything,” but . . . I saw a really great movie last night. I know, I know.

I think I enjoy documentary films so much because I enjoy stories about people. Steve Hartman has spent a lot of time on CBS proving that, no matter how boring we think we are, we all have a story to share, and many of those stories are just as (if not more) dramatic and heartfelt as the greatest novel or blockbuster movie. Fewer explosions, less beautiful people, less “perfect” dialogue, but the sincerity can’t really be compared. Part of my love for stories probably comes from my years in youth group and retreats in college – one thing we were taught is that the story of our relationship with God is a beautiful thing, no matter how boring we think that it is. That your story doesn’t have to have motorcycle gangs and drugs and dramatic conversions to be a story of God’s faithfulness and how you are growing in that. I think my story as a Christian honestly is kind of boring, but I also know that my leaders and friends were speaking the truth, which is one reason I have come to see people’s stories as . . . almost a holy thing. A way to connect to other people, to see their humanity.

I also, as you probably know, enjoy stories about relationships. I think a lot about my own relationships: with Mike, with my friends, with family, with friendships that didn’t work out or never got off the ground. I think about why they work or why they didn’t. In college, I started learning how relationships could be refining, how, if I let them, they could help smooth my rough edges. And marriage, of course, has taught me even more about that. I have been thinking lately about how my marriage and my friendships have given me confidence that I am someone worth being friends with. That some of the problems I’ve had with relationships in the past weren’t completely my fault. That I’m capable of loving and being loved. That I shouldn’t let some of the failures of the past overshadow the relationships that continue to grow these days.

But wasn’t I supposed to be talking about a movie? Well, Mike and I saw Wordplay last night, and we both loved it. More than we expected to, even. It’s a fun little documentary about crossword puzzles – the history, the construction, the people who do them, and, finally, the annual tournament. We meet some of the participants (many of whom are past champions) and get to know their stories as we build up to the tournament. And then, finally, it’s tournament time, and people are arriving at the hotel and hugging each other and catching up. And they compete the first day, and they have a talent show that night, and they play games, and Will Shortz is hanging out with them, and it looked like so much fun. I loved watching the community they had formed – one lady was introduced as a first-timer, and another lady quickly said, “Do you want to have dinner with us?” It looked like, yes, there were cliques, and, yes, there was some fierce competition, but . . . everyone was united by their love of crosswords and competition as well as their sense of fairness. One of the most moving scenes was a woman who had been the champion back in the 70s, and who lost her husband at the tournament one year – he had a heart attack on the Sunday afternoon of the tournament weekend. But she said she still comes because she knows he would want her to, and she talked about how there were other people who had also passed away, but she felt their presence, too. I thought that summed up the whole appeal of the movie for me – these people really care about each other, and that’s why they come back year after year.

And that’s not even touching on the incredible skill and knowledge that the people in this movie possess, which was the reason I wanted to see the movie in the first place. (Well, that and Jon Stewart.)

We watched the movie in a tiny theater – at first we thought it was going to be just us and another couple, but then the seats started filling up, and by the end the theater was mostly full, about 25-30 people in a theater that seats no more than 40. We had the kind of movie experience you would want for a small movie about geeks – people laughing, applauding, and exclaiming at all the appropriate times. It was as if we formed a community of our own for the duration of the movie.

In college, we talked a lot about “sharing life” as being an important part of authentic Christianity, but I don’t think I knew what that really meant. I still don’t think I entirely know what that means, but I have a better idea than I did. Last night’s movie made me think of “sharing life” in terms of being in relationships with people who understand (and support) what makes you tick, of the importance of getting to be who you really are without having to put up any fronts or censor yourself, of the value of sharing your interests with the people around you. In a really good way, it made me lament some of my own lost relationships a little less – most of the time, they were lost because there was a lack of truly understanding one another, however that ended up playing out.

Often, seeing other people’s stories reminds me of the value of my own. Seeing Wordplay, a movie that celebrates ordinary people with many different gifts and talents who love crossword puzzles, made me remember that the best way to live is to be who I really am, to celebrate my quirks and embrace my passions. My story is only going to be boring if I try to make it fit some prescribed formula. But a life full of friends (“kindred spirits,” really) and interests (no matter how strange), of love and family, of knowing and being known . . . how could that be a boring story?

I can’t remember the first time I read Little Women. I remember what the book looked like, a hardcover with pale flowers on the front that I checked out of the library, but I don’t have any specific memories of reading it. I do remember reading Little Men – I read it in the bathtub, soaking in some mixture that was supposed to help keep my chicken pox from itching quite so much. I didn’t like Little Men as much as Little Women, except for Daisy’s little stove, which isn’t a huge part of the story. I always found it a little off-putting that Jo married someone so old, and I didn’t like reading about him all that much. And I never made it through Jo’s Boys. I read Little Women not long before I read Little Men, but I don’t remember meeting the March family for the first time, which surprises me. It’s such a vivid story, the kind of story I usually remember encountering for the first time. I remember discovering Anne of Green Gables, but not, for whatever reason, Little Women.

My book club is discussing Little Women this month (and the new companion to it, March, which is from Mr. March’s perspective, next month). One of my friends is planning on coming to the discussion, so she just finished the book, and last night we watched the movie (Winona Ryder version) last night. I own the movie, but it was the first time in several years I had actually watched it, as opposed to putting it in because it’s familiar and comforting and I can fall asleep to it. It was also the first time I’d watched it since being married, at least for any length of time, and this is the first time I’ve returned to the story of Little Women (I’m about ¼ of the way through the book) since reading March, which gave an interesting perspective on the family.

And I loved it. I really did. I liked the inclusion of politics, especially after reading March and thinking more about the Alcotts and what they believed about slavery and suffrage. I think including that information added another level to the movie, which I appreciated. As I’ve been reading the book, I’ve recalled so many of the scenes from the movie – Meg letting her friends dress her up, Amy and the limes, the Christmas dinner they gave away. I don’t exactly picture Winona Ryder when I read about Jo, but she has the right eyes to play the part. The March house looks to me like it does in the movie, and Christian Bale is exactly how I picture Laurie.

I wonder sometimes if Little Women could even be published these days – it’s a little preachy, and the story’s kind of long for a children’s book, and wouldn’t the editors require a different ending? Louisa May Alcott has disappointed generations of girls who think that Jo should end up with Laurie. I’ve paid lip service to the fact that the author was right, that Jo and Laurie weren’t right for each other, but I never actually believed it. Last night, though, when Laurie was proposing and saying how they wouldn’t fight and he’d change and she didn’t have to write unless she wanted to, I finally got it. I got that he didn’t really understand Jo if he would say that she didn’t have to write (in the book, he doesn’t say that, but she does say that he would hate all her “scribbling”). I got that she, who struggled with her temper, needed a different kind of person. I got that they actually aren’t right for each other, which I haven’t seen before because movie Laurie is so cute and appealing. I still wish the Professor wasn’t quite so old, but I’ll admit that Louisa May was right after all. It took being married for a while to see it, so I admire Jo for knowing what was right.

My friend said she cried the whole way through the book as she read it this time, and she cried last night, too. I cried a little bit when Beth died (I mean, when they’re putting the flower petals on Beth’s dolls, it’s just a bit much! They’re goading me into crying!), but I saved my good cry for the car ride home. I’m anxious to get to that part of the book, because I remember the movie version so much better.

Little Women isn’t one of my favorite books, but I love how sincere it is, the whole way through. I love that the girls are trying to make themselves better, I love the plays they put on, I love that they give their Christmas dinner away. I read a lot of books that are more jaded, and maybe they have more interesting or important things to say, but it’s nice to return to Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy every now and then. I’m really looking forward to the discussion.

On Sunday, while catching up on some ironing, I watched Mad Hot Ballroom. It was fabulous. I highly recommend it. Its very existence calls the whole “100 Years/100 Cheers” list into question. I understand that the criteria indicated that movies on that list should be fictional, but why should a fictionalized version of Seabiscuit or Erin Brokovich or even All the President’s Men (in any of these movies, events have probably been switched around or left out in order to make the story more dramatic) be more inspiring than an actual documentary about actual children? Manipulation is better than genuine feeling?

If you don’t know what Mad Hot Ballroom is, here’s where you can read a plot summary. Of course seeing the children work hard was inspiring, but more than that, you saw them gaining confidence, you saw them (as one of the teachers said) “becoming ladies and gentlemen,” and you saw them learning about winning and losing. You saw the arts working, getting through to these kids. You saw excellent teachers doing their best to keep kids off the streets. And along with those teachers, you want to believe that this program will make a difference in some of their lives.

I think my favorite part was at the end, at the final competition, when the kids were dancing their hearts out. There was a judge with very long hair, and she was grinning her face off the entire time. She enjoyed every second of what she was doing, and when I turned off the movie, I am pretty sure the expression on my face mirrored hers.

Fictionalized stories are great. I love fiction. But that doesn’t mean we should forget the power of a true story, one in which real people work hard and overcome obstacles and maybe even let it change their lives.

I haven’t seen a lot of Robert Altman films (here’s where I admit I haven’t seen MASH), but I have really enjoyed the ones I have seen. I remember watching Gosford Park - Mike was asleep on the couch and I, as recommended, had put on the subtitles in order to keep up with what was being said. Gosford Park was like a revelation. I loved watching the story unfold, all the twists and turns, all the different characters and how their lives intersect. Robert Altman is one reason that I decided I wanted to see A Prairie Home Companion.

I know that, because of my love of Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls (aka “that movie where she was so pretty with her red hair and cute figure before she started smoking crack”), you’re expecting me to say that she’s the other reason. Actually, the other main reason I wanted to see A Prairie Home Companion is Meryl Streep. I have seen some of her movies and enjoyed her work, and then Kelly and I saw The Hours in the theater, and I was mesmerized. After we finished the movie today, I told Mike that same thing - “Every time Meryl Streep was on the screen, I was watching her. I find her mesmerizing.”

You see, I haven’t listened to “A Prairie Home Companion” on NPR in years. Sorry, but it’s true. I think part of that is that I don’t like to get into something in the middle, where I’m missing all the history and the in-jokes, and that keeps me from starting it now. And I never could get into any of Garrison Keillor’s books. I don’t remember my mom and dad listening to the show a whole lot, but I do remember them talking about it, and I think they listen to it if it’s on and they’re in the car. Mike, for his part, has never heard the show. So we aren’t exactly PHC experts, by any means. I give that disclaimer to say, look, we’re not looking for the same things a fan of the show would be looking for. We didn’t have the weight of expectation that a fan of the show might have. But, not to put too fine a point on it, I thought the movie was fabulous. Mike loved it, too, but I don’t think he uses the word “fabulous.” Ever.

Basically, it took me out of the movie theater I was in, one seat away from a weird guy with an annoying laugh, and made me feel like I was there, with those people. Virginia Madsen’s character says at one point that when she used to listen to the show, she felt like they were all her friends, and that’s what the movie felt like to me as well. The history of the people and their love for what they were doing on that stage came through in a wonderful way. I laughed and cried through it, and I left feeling . . . like you do after catching up with an old friend. You talk about things both happy and sad, but you leave with a full heart. Mike and I hadn’t been to the movies together since January, and this was well worth breaking our fast.

I was going to leave my review at that, but it would be a little dishonest, I think. I don’t know exactly how to put this part into words, but I especially enjoyed the way the movie handled mortality, both in the desire to honor the people and things (like radio shows) that are no longer with us, and the balance of continuing to live your life without the people and things you love. It was a lesson in Ecclesiastes: acknowledging that there are times and places for all the different feelings that we experience here on earth, and we all express those in different ways. It was a good lesson to learn in a dark theater on a Saturday afternoon.

I’m probably not going to become a fan of the show now (we talked about that on the way home, and Mike says it’s not podcasted, so that’s pretty much it for us. But let me just say that, every week, we thoroughly enjoy the podcast of “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me!” Listening to it together is one of the highlights of my week), but count me in as a fan of the wonderful movie. Mike came upstairs as I was writing this and said, “Are you writing a review? You should say that they just don’t make movies like that anymore.”

KARI: Hey.

MIKE: Hey.

KARI: You didn’t come to bed last night.

MIKE: I didn’t want to wake you again.

KARI: Again?

MIKE: Yeah, I came and told you about the game and about It’s a Wonderful Life.

KARI: I took Ambien.

MIKE: I could tell.

KARI: I don’t remember this conversation.

MIKE: I figured.

KARI: So, the game?

MIKE: We lost in overtime.

KARI: Suck!

MIKE: Yeah.

KARI: I’m sorry.

MIKE: It’s okay.

KARI: And It’s a Wonderful Life? Don’t tell me that was the top movie.

MIKE: It was.

KARI: What about To Kill a Mockingbird! I thought that would be number one!

MIKE: It was number two.

KARI: What else?

MIKE: Schindler’s List was number three.

KARI: Yay, Holocaust?

MIKE: I think the criteria was a little different than we thought it would be.

KARI: Yeah, when I think “100 Cheers” I don’t think “Schindler’s List.” I guess I was expecting more of the movies to be like Rudy, since that was the one on the commercials. Movies that inspire you to be a better person, or to reach for your dreams.

MIKE: It was about the triumph of the human spirit. That means the movie can be sad.

KARI: Well, then, two things. 1. “100 Cheers” is a terrible name, because I thought it would be actual cheers in movies that they’d be talking about. Like Rudy. Or Hoosiers. Basically, I thought there’d be a lot of sports. And 2. What human spirit triumphs in It’s a Wonderful Life?!?

MIKE: I think they were trying to make it rhyme. 100 Years/100 Cheers.

KARI: It’s a Wonderful Life is NOT the most inspiring movie! Unless we’re talking about “inspiring people to stab themselves in the eye with a pen.”

MIKE: When I told you that It’s a Wonderful Life had won, you said, “I have WORDS.”

KARI: Even drugged-out-on-Ambien Kari knows that that is a terrible choice. Have these people even SEEN It’s a Wonderful Life? Do they KNOW how depressing it is? So he gets some money in the end and somebody rings a little bell so Clarence can get his frickin’ wings. This does not inspire me.

MIKE: I think now is the time for you to write an essay detailing the many faults of It’s a Wonderful Life.

KARI: I might have to watch it again to do that. And I refuse to watch it again.

MIKE: But I enjoy your bitter diatribes.

KARI: If they named Atticus as the greatest hero, how can his movie NOT be the most inspiring?

MIKE: George Bailey was number nine on that list.

KARI: And Mr. Potter was, what a top-five villain? [Editor: he was number six.] That means the villain in that movie is better than the protagonist!

MIKE: That’s not really what that means.

KARI: ….

MIKE: You’re right! That’s exactly what that means!

KARI: Thank you.

MIKE: It’s a good thing you didn’t stay up. You would have gotten so mad you wouldn’t have been able to sleep.

KARI: Well, yeah! Because the human spirit doesn’t triumph in It’s a Wonderful Life! He wastes his whole life in that stupid town, and then, at the end, his friends come and bail him out one time, and I’m supposed to think it’s great! But it’s not! Everything will go back to being awful in the end. The only difference is that now Clarence has his wings.

MIKE: Hey, remember how they talk smack about librarians, too?

KARI: Now you’re just trying to provoke me.

MIKE: Yes. Is it working?

KARI: Yes. I bet they had lots of shots of Uncle Billy. Stupid Uncle Billy with his stupid string around his stupid fingers. Too stupid to realize he’s given the money to Mr. Potter.

MIKE: Don’t forget Zuzu’s petals.

KARI: I hate Zuzu’s petals. And the stupid banister. And the, “I wish I had a million dollars!’

MIKE: Remember how he gives up his honeymoon to save the Savings and Loan? That’s my favorite part.

KARI: I hate you.

MIKE: It’s so great that he never gets to leave.

KARI: The list is now inspiring me to stab YOU in the eye with a pen.

MIKE: There are plenty of people who agree with you. Bitter, sad people who can’t enjoy the greatness of the most inspiring movie in the history of cinema.

KARI: Like Phoebe. “It’s a Sucky Life, and Just When You Think It Can’t Suck Any More It Does!”

MIKE: Yeah, Phoebe on your side. That’ll convince people.

KARI: . . .

MIKE: Hey, thanks for cheering me up about the game. I feel a lot better already.

Why is it that every time I pass the Lifetime or Women’s Entertainment channels and Dirty Dancing is on, I have to stop and watch? There are plenty of movies that are shown all the time - I rememer The Princess Bride being on TBS a lot. That’s a respectable movie. But, no, I have to watch Dirty Dancing. (And I realize this is not exactly new material here, because I talked about watching it back in October, too. I have watched it several more times since then.) I have to watch Baby come out of her shell and learn how to dance, and I have to watch Baby’s father learn to accept Johnny, and I have to watch them do their dance at the end to “I’ve Had the Time of My Life.” And I have to sing along with all the songs. Including the “How do you call your loverboy?” song. Stop looking at me like that. The soundtrack is good. Except for that song that Patrick Swayze sings. And it’s good in an “I can’t believe anyone actually let him record this” kind of way.

Mike and I had an argument on Saturday night about Dirty Dancing, which I will recreate for you here.

MIKE: This is not a good movie! Stop watching it!

KARI: Take that back! It deals with important themes like . . . class dynamics and . . . abortion! And putting people in corners!

MIKE: Seriously? That’s the best you can do? What if you were sitting by a window and I walked up to you and said, ‘Nobody puts Kari by a window!’ Is that impressive at all?

KARI: Can you dance like Patrick Swayze?

MIKE: No.

KARI: Then it’s not impressive.

The first time I saw Dirty Dancing was at my friend Leslie’s house. She had seen it about 100 times, but I had never seen it (it is rated PG-13, and I was just 10), so we checked it out of the video store and she was so excited for me to see it. At the end of it, I remember feeling like I had maybe missed something. Now I know that “something” was “the entire abortion subplot.” I had no idea what was going on. I just liked the dancing. And yay for true love! I was ten, okay? I had similar feelings when I saw Grease as a college student - they rereleased it in theaters, and a bunch of girls from my hall decided to go. The remarkable thing about seeing the rerelease of Grease in the theater was that the girls I was with were not the only ones doing the handmotions during Greased Lightning. No, no, we were not. There were other groups of girls doing them as well. We all kind of waved at each other. This, I believe, is what college is really about - making a fool of yourself in public places. I learned that on 90210, when Donna and Kelly were pledging a sorority and had to walk around in their pajamas and cold cream and of course Kelly saw Dylan . . . or maybe it was John by then, but of course it didn’t matter, because, who are we kidding, she looked cute despite her pajamas. And whoever the guy was, he agreed. Anyway, the first time I saw Grease was in a basement, hanging out with my parents’ friends’ kids while my parents were hanging out with their friends. What I remember about Grease the first time is this: “Yay, singing! I love movies with singing!” What I remember from seeing it in college was: “How come I didn’t remember the pregnancy scare? And, wow, there’s a lot of talking about sex.”

There are just some movies that, no matter how bad they are, the memories associated with them are so good that you have to love them anyway. I haven’t seen Leslie since I graduated high school, but I always think of her when I see Baby and Johnny dancing. I don’t know exactly what all those kids from the basement are up to, but I always remember how the older ones had a little bit better idea of what was going on, because they kept trying to convince their parents that Grease was perfectly clean. Plus, I think there has to be some kind of clause or loophole regarding movies that you watched before a certain age. Let’s say 15. If you watched the movie (or *cough*90210*cough* television show) before that age, there’s no shame in admitting that, when you see it on TV, you just want to sit and watch for a little while.

Besides, where else would I have learned such gems as, “She leads me through moonlight, only to burn me with the sun . . . She’s taken my heart, she doesn’t know what she’s dooooooooooone?” (I remember, in high school, that our lunch table would spontaneously burst into that song from time to time. Leslie was, in fact, part of that lunch table.)

KARI: Yesterday Jason linked to some pictures from Snakes on a Plane.

MIKE: How did they look?

KARI: There were snakes.

MIKE: What were they doing?

KARI: They were on the plane.

MIKE: And Samuel L. Jackson?

KARI: Was being his regular badass self.

MIKE: I wish I had known that he just likes working, that he doesn’t care so much about whether the movie is good. Because, after Pulp Fiction, I wanted to see a lot of his movies. And many of them are not good.

KARI: Snakes on a Plane.

MIKE: You’re going to make me see Snakes on a Plane on opening night, aren’t you?

KARI: Scott suggested that we have a .net get-together. Just to see Snakes on a Plane! I should suggest our house as a place to stay. We should have it here.

MIKE: That would be fun. And also a little crazy.

KARI: I’ll suggest we have it here.

MIKE: You’re going to buy me one of those shirts, aren’t you?

KARI: Maybe. Maybe I’ll get it for myself.

MIKE: We should all get them to wear to opening night. And we can get our names put on the back. Smith, Windsor, Gerace, Morris . . .

KARI: Not Morris. Geof hates snakes and planes so much he had to block the whole movie board.

MIKE: Wow.

KARI: I know. We kept posting in it and it was giving him the creeps. I love saying “snakes on a plane.”

MIKE: I noticed.

KARI: If we have the get-together here, we could have party favors of plastic snakes and plastic planes.

MIKE: That’s not predictable at all.

KARI: Instead of spin the bottle, whoever gets the snake and the plane have to kiss.

MIKE: That’s slightly more original. How about: We could have a bag full of pieces of paper, mostly blank, one with a snake and one with a plane. The two who get the snake and the plane have to go to the closet for five minutes.

KARI: That’s good!

MIKE: I got it from Teen Wolf.

KARI: Oh. I don’t remember that.

MIKE: What do you remember?

KARI: Um, him flipping on the top of the van. And he scared that one guy so much that he made him pee on himself.

MIKE: And the basketball game.

KARI: Was that Teen Wolf or Teen Wolf Too?

MIKE: I think it was the original. For our get-together, we can eat gummy worms. They look like snakes. We could sneak gummy worms into the movie and scare people with them!

KARI: There was a cake I saw on a blog about the movie. I’ll just need a Mace Windu action figure.

MIKE: If there were other movies about snakes on planes, we could rent those.

KARI: But there aren’t. This is the original snakes on a plane movie.

MIKE: Snakes.

KARI: On a plane.

MIKE: They’re no match for Samuel L. Jackson.

KARI: SNAKES ON A PLANE!

Last year I saw about seven different movies in the theater. Two I loved: Pride and Prejudice, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. One I liked a lot: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. One was silly and fun: Bride and Prejudice. And two were disappointments: Revenge of the Sith and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe<