on my movie reviewing and that most of my movies have already been reviewed by professionals, but I can’t always get to the movies before they are no longer playing in theaters. Still, I’ve decided to review movies full-time until I start writing another book.
I actually have a book in mind. In fact I have the whole thing outlined in my head. I just can’t think of any words to fill it in with.
I find movie watching helps stir the creative juices. Stir probably isn’t the right word. Erupt is better. Movies have such a profound affect/effect on me (you choose) that it’s almost too much for me. As a child, I couldn’t even make it all the way through Cinderella. My mom kept taking me to the movie theater, but we’d have to keep going home as soon as the stepsisters were mean to Cindy. I tried, over and over again, but I couldn’t bare it. I remember how nice she was to me, carrying me back to the car for like the fourth or fifth time, until she finally said, "Maybe this isnt such a good movie for you."
As an adult I still cry all throughout films that aren’t even supposed to be sad. I’m just overwhelmed by the largeness of the whole cinematic experience.
Which brings me to Superbad. I’ve been dying to see it for so long. I knew it was the kind of thing that I could easily enjoy without any sort of emotional trauma. Jesse, however, continually forbade me from seeing it.
"Why? Is it scary or something?" I asked my son.
"No. But you still can’t watch it."
"Is it very sad? Does the mother die?"
"So, why can’t I watch it?"
"Too dirty for you."
"But I’m old. Dirty doesn’t do anything to me."
"I’m telling you, you won’t be able to handle it."
"I want to watch it!"
And that was that. Fortunately Jesse is away in Florida at the moment and Kim was delighted to rent it for me. In fact, she insisted. I was so thrilled.
"Maybe we can actually go to the movies after this and see ‘Getting over Sarah Marshall’," I suggested.
"See if you can handle this first," Kim said.
So we watched the movie. I’m sure Kim must have seen it at least ten times, but you had to see her cracking up. She was having little fits. And I have to say, Jesse was right. It was a tiny bit too dirty for me. Not in an oh dear, I can’t believe he just said or did that sort of way. It was just the grossest thing ever. I actually said the word, "Yick" at one point. I haven’t said "Yick" since the first time I saw a real penis. I really felt like a kid again!
"Yick," I repeated over and over again working myself up into a frenzy.
"I’m turning it off," Kim said.
"Why? I’m having fun!" I protested.
"You’re overreacting. Jesse was right."
"I promise to be quiet," I said, gagging behind my hand.
"Despite the blood on the thigh scene, as a full-time reviewer, I highly recommend it for the insanely witty dialogue which is so brilliant it will make you wish you were a chubby boy with an afro. But then again, most of you have probably already seen it.
The good news is I hardly cried at all.