Actually, it probably wasn’t. Baby’s first movie, I mean. Which is fine. Good even. I have no objections to bringing kids to movies they by pretty much any given standard shouldn’t be seeing. If you can handle (or ignore) the questions they have for you, go right ahead. But you also have to be able to be prepared for the rest of us mocking you or your baby when it inevitably annoys us.
Pirates Of The Caribbean: At World’s End – It’s only just finished its second weekend in theaters and this movie has already gone from biggest movie in history to bloated disappointment to underappreciated gem. It’s the middle one that fits. Except for the bloated part. Complaining about the length of a movie is like complaining about the size of a meal. You wouldn’t care if it was good. If the first two were 6 hours I can’t imagine I’dve cared. But my goodness.
And it’s not as if it was boring. Mostly, it just doesn’t make any sense. There was a point maybe a quarter of the way through when I decided that was my fault. Like I wasn’t paying attention or wasn’t working hard enough to follow it. Which was at the time regrettable but also pretty exciting. To think that all of a sudden the Pirates franchise had decided we were willing to forgo some of the inherent spectacle for something more cerebral. And of course that would come as a surprise, it wouldn’t be shocking that I could go half an hour without realizing I was going to have to treat this one differently. To go after it rather than just letting it take me out to sea. But it wasn’t long before that excitement wore off and I was left with the conclusion that I hadn’t gotten anything wrong. That it was indeed the movie’s fault.
Still, it’s clear Elliot & Rossio had a plan. Maybe even from the beginning. But certainly through these last two. To leave Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) as he started, both in personality and situation was not only unexpected but handled well. It didn’t feel like a tacked on ending, which is doubly amazing considering the actual climax was fairly stupid.
Waitress – I’m going to need more data, but does it seem like these sort of little movies about girls always end with the girl in question getting money instead of the guy? Not that it’s an either/or proposition. In Friends With Money Jennifer Aniston gets money because of the guy. I’m not even sure what it would mean if this were some sort of trend, but it does seem odd.
So that pretty much tells you how this thing ends. But of course, that’s almost entirely inconsequential. And of course, so is the movie.
I didn’t feel that way after seeing it. I thought it was pretty good. Jeremy Sisto is great as an abusive (but not physically) husband and if Nathan Fillion were in it more you could say he had stolen it. But now it seems like the kind of movie that makes me question not only why I see so many movies (though I might have to stop claiming that, because lately it just hasn’t been true), not only why I see any movie, but why movies even exist. I suppose I ought to try and explain what I mean by that. But really, what would be the point?
28 Weeks Later – This is the one the baby came to. Of course it was. And again, I’m going to need more data, but this baby was black. And the only time it was quiet was when the zombies were eating people and the movie was at its craziest. And I’ve been to enough movies to have seen enough babies of enough races to be able to say that that was completely expected. A white baby would have been more likely to have been the inversion of that, screaming at the “scary” parts and quiet otherwise. So there’s something to that right? I’m not sure which is better for the baby, but for the rest of the audience, clearly the baby I can’t hear crying because the movie is louder when it is crying would be preferred. But unfortunately, white people only seem to take their babies to inappropriately adult movies that are action movies rather than horror. And I guess there’s something to that trend as well.
None of this has anything to do with 28 Weeks Later, of course. But then, I remember the baby a lot better than I do the movie. Which is as much the fault of the movie as the baby’s. Or even the baby’s parents.