Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Monday, August 16, 2004

So, then, the weekend?

Got home Friday evening, and was soon met by a mob wanting to go see a movie. Given all the stuff we had to do--clean house, do laundry, go clean the football stadium on Saturday, go see my mom and sister, go do school shopping--we finally figured we might as well go on and go Friday instead of trying to work it in on Saturday or Sunday.

Time for everyone to get ready. I checked the showtimes and it looked like we could make the 7:10 with no problem. Except.

Boy was adamant that he not be forced to go see Princess Diaries 2. Which was fine by me--the first one was mildly amusing, but the reviews of the second installment have been savage. Not that I pay attention to reviews. (Except when I need to rely on them to give me a reason to suggest another alternative.)

Boy was angling to see Yu-Gi-Oh!, which is seen in its small-screen form too bleedin’ much at our house already. I am quite sick of the absolute lack of any originality in style or content in Japanese anime--has anyone checked to see if the crew from the early-‘70s Hanna-Barbera studios has gone to Japan? Such crappy dreck. AND NOW, in wide-screen format! For 7 bucks a pop! And it’s rated PG-13!? No way. “No way, Son. You’re not going to go see that crap, and you can forget it right now, because you’re not going to go see it. Clear?” Dejectedly, “Yes, sir.”

Spider-Man 2, on the other hand--now THAT was the sort of derivative and overblown craptacular that I would want to see! Anything with the redheaded and bedimpled Kirsten Dunst is fine by me. Boy agreed to Spidey, although almost immediately began having second thoughts about the scariness of it. Which is probably prudent on his part. I could just imagine him waking up at night thinking Doc Oc was climbing down his wall. But it was still better than a silly princess movie.

Got to the theater, parked, got in line inside to get tickets, sent Reba to the concession line with some cash, then saw Jonathan running back over to where I was standing. “Dad! I don’t want to see Spider-Man--I want to go with Mama!” ::sigh::

Well, as I said in the comment section below, I wasn’t about to go sit BY MYSELF in a theater like one of those guys who has comic books sealed in plastic bags. I had to fight long and hard to persuade some unsuspecting woman to marry me, and I wasn’t about to let anyone forget it! So, I purchased tickets for all of us to go seePD-2.

Movie Review Time

Spoilers Ahead! Don’t read anymore--scroll down to avoid learning that Princess Mia becomes Queen Mia without having to marry the dorkwad, and also gets to pal around with the cute guy after she is crowned. Sorry---I’m not real good at writing reviews. Especially when the entire movie is a test of wills to see if I can avoid either screaming out loud how putrid the whole effort is, or alternately, avoid making myself sick on the people in front of me.

Oldest loved it, and it must be stated that she is the target demographic of the movie. Still, you have to wonder about a culture so cynical about the attitudes of teen girls to think that THIS steaming pile was the best they could come up with. And in the previews, I see that there is yet another “President’s daughter escapes her circumstances to go off and be normal, wherein ‘normal’ consist of jabbering and shopping and looking at sparkly things and kewl boyz” movie in the works ::sigh:: Enough!

Thankfully, Ashley does seem to understand, somewhere down in that psyche dominated by the Goddess Bling, that some movies are better than others. We have a copy of Indiscreet that she seems quite fond of. Now THAT’S a movie. Of course, that was from back in the olden days when adults acted like adults, rather than as simpletons or useful fools or evil.

And there was such a thing as wit--something the Princess mess was deathly shy of. Frankly, I just don’t think the odd tribute to Lucille Ball was funny--a band comes tootling into the town of Mertz, with its bandleader, Lucy Carmichael… Please. Make. It. Stop. No one but some old fart like me is even going to pick up on the supposed humor, AND IT WASN’T FUNNY.

And here, folks, is the big kicker. Paul Williams. Paul FREAKIN’ Williams. Formerly chubby elfin 1970s mirthmaking songster. In this movie. As Lord Harmony.

Let that sink in a bit. Or not.

Then know that rubber-faced Tom Poston is in the movie, in a part that literally requires him to sleep his way through it.

For the record, here is my list of things that are not funny--old sleeping men, things mistakenly being thrown from your person and caught by a servant, listening at ventilation grilles, falling repeatedly, falling in fountains, pears, non-existent European countries, wigs, holding your hand to your ear when you talk, slick floors, runaway horses, dinner parties, children, cats, remote controls that don’t work, servants, orphans, princesses, well-meaning servants, archery, popcorn, men in boats, ugly girlfriends, this movie, loud servants, meat, climbing down vines, noses, Garry Marshall, robes, mattresses, dogs, wood, Raven, horns, archbishops, architects, torches, cars, cobblestones, footmen, women with helmets, men with wigs, ladies in waiting, curtseying, reporters, fake accents, television, opera, Japanese people, church choirs, and once more, this movie.

I demand an apology from the entire cast and crew.

Home then, and to bed, then up early Saturday.

About which in just a moment.

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