Movie: Green and Gold

 We had heard about the movie "Green and Gold," it sounded interesting, and we finally watched it.

On the plus side, this is the most Wisconsin thing I've ever seen.  I was initially delighted with the whole thing.  Culver's.  Cows.  Barns.  Near the shore of Lake Michigan.  Rural life.  Small towns.  Packers mania.  Target practice with guns.  Deer, a bear, migrating geese, and other wildlife.  Charlie Behrens on the radio.  Tractors.  The value of family farms versus industrial farming.  The crazy squiggly road up in Door County.

But the movie began frustrating us with the quality of the audio.  Of the two main characters, one was pretty easy to understand.  But the other had a "fuzzy" voice, very hard to catch her words.  And there was no captioning available.  We missed a lot of dialogue, as only a few of the characters had clear voices whose words we could understand.  And the visuals were dark enough that there was no chance of lip-reading to pick up words we missed.

There was also the ubiquitous problem of the pastor and the congregation (neither of which was tremendously integral to the story) having terrible theology and not knowing what the church is for.  But that part is no surprise.  

The movie wasn't a complete waste of time.  But boy, I'm glad we opted to watch it with commercials for free instead of renting the show.

My conclusion at the end of the evening: I think I'm no longer an Illinois girl.  I really have become a Wisconsinite.

Dirty TV

Tired, I forced myself to watch a couple of movies last night instead of tackling my to-do list.  Both movies had interesting premises.  Both were interesting and had the kind of story that could be nicely emotional.  But both left me feeling uneasy.

In one, a cabbie was driving a woman cross-country to see her hospitalized dad.  It could've been a fabulous story.  But ...
Near the end, although the two had grown somewhat attached, the woman went home to her husband.  Then the movie concluded with the woman deciding she really needed to go find the cab-driver after all.  I had had miniscule hopes that maybe, just maybe, there'd be forgiveness between the husband and wife, and that they would be faithful to each other, even if the joybells and the twitterpation weren't there.  Silly me.  Luv and Romance aren't about that kind of stuff.  Luv is about the twitterpation. 

Next movie was about a fellow with a brain injury.  They found that music got through to him when nothing else would.  Oh, a producer and a writer could do an awesome story with that kind of a set-up!  By the end of the movie, I didn't know what I thought.  On the one hand, the father of the brain-injured guy was relentless in his love.  He did whatever he could to reach his son.  He persisted.  That part was great.  But ...
The son had been a rebellious hippie back in the 60s.  Drugs, free love, angry music, and despising everything his dad had taught him.  The family became estranged.  It seemed to me that the story was largely about the dad having to come to terms with how he'd been unaccepting, and how he needed to change.

I woke up this morning feeling like I was dirty. 

Belle

A 2014 movie set in the 1700s in British society.  Rated PG.  A biracial girl is being raised by her dad's uncle and aunt.  Who is prejudiced, and who pretends not to be?  Beautiful costumes and scenery.  Awesome acting.  Based on a true story.  Plot covers the biographical aspect of Dido and her family, as well as the legal aspect of slavery in Britain.

Rachel told me she knew I'd want to see this.  Boy, she was right!  After she loaned me her Netflix DVD and I returned it, I left the movie on my Netflix queue so I can see it again.

Wit

A movie about dying of cancer. A professor who is alone, no family, no friends. She agrees to aggressive treatment, for the sake of research, with only a small hope for recovery. An exacting professor who teaches John Donne's poetry. A woman who has little to hang onto other than "Death, Be Not Proud" and her own toughness.

A woman who eventually must face the prospect of her own death. A woman whose only comfort is the gospel (if you can call it that) found in The Runaway Bunny.

So very different from Stephen's death.  A man surrounded by family, friends, and pastors.  A room filled with hymns, prayers, more hymns, liturgy, psalms, and a few more hymns.  An image on the wall of Jesus dying on the cross to bear the wages of Steve's sins.  A statue of St Michael defeating the dragon-of-old.

Unlike the tough professor in Wit, Pastor Wiest knew long before that he was weak.  But His Jesus is strong.  As he became weaker at the end, he was given more and more and more of Jesus' word of forgiveness and mercy.  "For when I am weak, then am I strong."

Weekend

Andrew, Olivia, Katie, and the kids came over Saturday afternoon to hang out.  We cooked many batches of homemade French fries; I wanted to use up any potatoes from the garden which looked blemished so that the rest of them would store well.

Then Katie took Zoe to pick up her new glasses.  It sounds like the child still needs to get used to them; the world looks completely different for her.

Gary, Maggie, Katie, and the kids had gone to "Heritage Days" on Saturday morning. On Sunday afternoon Gary and Maggie visited again with some friends from church. Katie said the fake-surgery on the battlefield was portrayed so well that she felt a little sick to her stomach.

Gary said that the girls especially enjoyed the tent with old-timey games.


I was struggling with headache over the weekend.  I didn't get much accomplished (other than French fries) on Saturday.  Sunday I tried to order photos from Shutterfly and it just wouldn't work for me.  Not a good first impression of their website!  Eventually I hit the couch and spent the rest of the day watching television to make myself rest.

We found two good movies.  On the same day.  Hooray!  "Breaking Away" is set in the late 70's in Bloomington, Indiana.  Nice story about the relationship between the townies and the college kids.  The other movie was about Queen Victoria after her husband died: "Mrs Brown." 

Poison-ivy rash is worse again today. I think I'm going to have to clean the couch AGAIN. Seriously?  How long is it going to take to solve this?

Dear Diary ...

Discharged from outpatient speech therapy last week.
Discharged from outpatient physical therapy yesterday.

Borrowed Maggie's bike yesterday and rode back and forth in front of the house for two or three whole minutes, in yet another attempt to put a smidgeon of muscle back into my legs.  I did not topple over.  I did, however, get off the bike and walk it up the steeper inclines. 

The therapists warned me against overdoing; they said I must do a lot of "nothing."  They said that's when my brain does its healing.  I don't know how to do nothing.  I watch tv and read and do Sudoku's.  I drag myself through an easy chore or two.  I'm to the point of needing naps only when I overdo a bit. 

I've been watching Call the Midwife.  So many friends have raved about the series.  I have mixed feelings.  At the beginning, it seemed like the longest one-hour show I'd ever watched.  But after we got to know the characters and the setting, that aspect improved.  Overall, I get to liking the show, and then an episode pops up that infuriates me.  It's one thing to have a story about a brother and sister committing adultery, and then her committing suicide.  It's another thing altogether to have this relationship extolled as the right kind of love and passion and fulfillment.  Similarly, I can understand the reason why this series would set forth a story about a woman with "too many children" and her attempts to abort the next baby.  But that story takes on a completely different aspect when the narrator bookends the story with commentary on the Pill and the need for safe abortion to protect women from the Burdens Of Childbearing.  Then, when I've calmed down, I decide to give the series "one more chance" and the next episode gets me hooked again.

Andrew drove me to therapy the other day.  A soap opera was playing in the waiting room.  He was reading, but he caught glimpses of his first soap.  On the way home, he commented on the vengeance and hatred.  At my last haircut [no, I mean, the last regular haircut, y'know, in the salon, not the post-surgery head-shaving] I was sickened to see what was on soap operas today.  I remember people telling me when I was in college that they were inappropriate for Christians (or even decent people) to watch.  I thought that was overly legalistic.  I don't know if I've changed or if soap operas have worsened that much.  But now I'm inclined to agree: watching soaps today is submitting to the brainwashing of the culture.  (Oh, man, I'm gonna get hate-mail now....)

The strawberries are coming in abundantly.  I think we should replant healthy babies again this year, late in summer.  The difference in berry-size is significant.  And last fall it looked like those spindly, frail starters couldn't possibly produce anything.  I had to freeze some berries because we're bringing in more than we can eat ... and jam-making seems too risky right now with my brain-scrambles and my lack of physical strength.

God is certainly doing my garden-watering for me.  I did not get around to pruning the grapes, the cherries, or the apples.  Right now, the grapes vines look to be producing plenty of fruit and jam and juice.   The apples trees --which produced NOTHING the last three summers-- have baby apples.  I must have been pruning the wrong twigs in previous years.  Now, how do I figure out what I did wrong so that I don't repeat my mistake ... because these trees desperately need pruning as soon as fall's cool weather sets in.

I have not touched a lawn-mower since before my crash.  Gary has borne the brunt of that chore, with some help from Rachel.  We are deeply thankful that the neighbors have helped mow, and one has offered to loan his riding lawnmower to Gary occasionally!

Gary drove Maggie and me to the library last night.  First trip since my crash.  The library had notices about a town meeting that would deeply impact that future of the library.  Turned out the meeting was due to start just a few minutes before we left the library.  We drove straight over to town hall.  Both Gary and I ended up testifying briefly.  I'm glad we went.  Most of the citizens there were of the opposite viewpoint.  I think it was encouraging to the town board to hear us few taxpayers/voters in agreement with them.  It's probably also good that ALL the citizens attending were not of the one opinion, but that some of us agreed with the board's decision.  (I'm kind of scared to see how the local weekly paper quotes me: it's not exactly the most accurate news-reporting I've ever seen.)

We have lots of new members at church.  It is such an encouragement to see them arrive to visit, and revel in the liturgy and the preached gospel, to see their eager attendance at Bible class.  And they come back and bring friends.  Lovely!

You know what?  If you don't dust for long enough, you can't dust.  You have to use a wet, soapy cloth to scrub dirt off the furniture.  Each day I tell myself that I'm going to do a little housecleaning.  Just a little.  And it's harder to clean stuff than I expect.  Partly because I'm weak.  Partly because the dirt is thicker.  Ick.  (Thing is, before my daughters get any bright ideas to come over and help, I have to sort and file and toss and eliminate ... so that cleaners can find the horizontal surfaces in need of cleaning.)

At symposium last week, I found myself boasting to out-of-towners about the people at church.  We have done very little cooking since I arrived home from the hospital.  Our fellow-saints are preparing meals and bringing them to us.  I am absolutely overwhelmed by the generosity.  And the delicious cooking. 

I began weaning off the shingles drug (the one for nerve pain, aka my arachnoiditis).  Going from 3 pills daily to 2 was okay.  Going from 2 to 1 pill has been a bit much.  I thought I'd be weaned off the drug entirely before seeing the neurologist for my follow-up visit.  I doubt it now.  I'm too whiny about the nerve pain again.  I look like a dope, carrying a pillow around with me, so I don't have to sit on a hard pew or chair at church.  Too bad.  Dopey-looking is better than whiny and suffering.

That's enough update. 
I have all these scribbled notes for things I want to put on my blog/diary.
But there's only so much sitting at the computer that my body can take. 
So now I'm stopping and heading off to find a pain-pill.  
Have a happy day!

"I Just Want You To Be Happy"

Pastor keeps saying it over and over:  Our society believes, "All that matters is that they're happy."  Okay, I figure he's right, but I didn't know where he kept bumping into this credo. 

I've been watching more than my normal share of movies recently.  One after another after another: "I just want you to be happy" and "whatever it takes for them to be happy."  If it's not a theme, it is at least accepted-as-universal-truth in most of the movies made in the last ten years.

Weaselly little thing to sneak into our brains under the guise of niceness.  After all, who would care about what was good for a person if it might make them uncomfortable?

Saving Mr Banks

Savings Mr Banks was one we'd intended to see in [gasp!] the theatre.  Like other people.  But we never made it.  So we watched it on DVD recently.  Oh my goodness -- it was so good that we watched it a second time before taking it back to the library!

Basic plot: Author of the book Mary Poppins doesn't want to sell the rights to Disney, who wants to turn the book into a musical/movie.  

I don't know how much truth there is to the characters and to their histories and motivations.  But it makes a very good story regardless.  Thought-provoking to see the effect on children of an irresponsible daddy who nevertheless shows much affection to his children.  Fun and amusing to see bits and pieces of Mary Poppins lines come out of the mouths of certain characters in the movie. 

Rating: Not sure why it's a PG-13.  It's seems cleaner overall than quite a few PG's I've watched.  Granted it's not something I'd want under-13's to see ... but I'd say the same about most of the PG movies out there.  (And personally, the vast majority of the PG-13's available today should be rated R in my opinion.  But that's another topic....)

Point of both stories:  As a kid, I always thought Mary Poppins was about the nanny rescuing the kids.  It wasn't until I was grown up that I realized that wasn't the main point of the movie.  At all.  In last year's movie, at one point, the author tells the movie producer, "You think this is about saving the children?!"  And she walks away, shaking her head.  And that is what both Mary Poppins and Saving Mr Banks are about.

Cranford

BEST movie I've seen in a long time!   Cranford is even better than Downton Abbey.  (Except shorter.  Too bad it's only five episodes.) 

Beautiful costumes.
Lovely scenery.
Superb acting.
Wonderful plots and character development.

Story is set in a small town in England in the 1840s.  The story is full of life and death, romance, gossip, power, and pleasant everyday life.  And it's funny -- SO funny!

Penance

"The Mission."
A movie with amazing music and cinematography and casting.
Docudrama set in the 1750s in South America: Jesuit missionaries going to the native peoples, and what happened when the Treaty of Madrid rearranged European "ownership" of the South American lands.

The movie has a bunch of different aspects:

Enslavement of the Guarani people even when slavery was officially illegal.

Corrupt leadership, in both political government and church government.

The shock to authorities when they find native people (so unlike themselves) trusting in the same Lord, worshiping Him with the same liturgy, and receiving the same sacraments.

The place of priests in fighting injustice: fighting militarily or not.

Persecution of the Church.

Self-defense and "just war."

The affect of the Gospel.



Whoa, that last one!  (Okay.  Warning.  Spoilers ahead.)

In the story, a slave trader ends up killing his brother in a duel.  He is devastated.  There is no hope for him.  The person who finally gets through to him partially is the priest who is ministering to the Indians who had been this slave trader's prey.  Of course, being Roman Catholics, there had to be penance.  They came up with a task, and the slave trader kept at it.  No matter how long he doggedly worked at his penance, he wasn't finding peace.  There was no relief. 

There was no comfort for him until he arrived at the home of those Indians he had hunted ... and they forgave him.  They did not take vengeance on him.  They physically removed the burden he'd been lugging along as penance.  And they accepted him into their midst. 

Penance did not save him.
Penance did not help make up for his evils.
Penance showed him that he could not atone for what he'd done.
It was mercy and forgiveness that freed him.
That mercy, in conjunction with God's word, was what changed the slave trader into a priest.




The Mission is one of those movies that is both sickening and beautiful.  The violence & gore, the bigotry, the evils -- it's enough to turn your stomach.  And yet, there's the beauty of defending the innocent, and the glory of seeing hearts and lives changed by the Gospel.

Touch

I've had one massage in my life, and I left more stressed and tense from it than I went in.  (I won't ever go back to that place -- that's for sure!)  The chatty masseuse, however, did expound upon something I agreed with: the need for people to be touched.  Physical contact is necessary to both physical and mental health.  The masseuse desired for people to believe in the importance of touch -- of course, she wants them to pay for her services. 

I thought it was sad sad sad that people have to pay a stranger to be touched.

Some friends linked to an article today about how everything is so over-sexed in our society that there can be no comfortable (and normal and healthy) platonic touch.  Innocent touching is assumed to have sexual overtones.  For example, occasionally at work my boss would like my dress and couldn't quite tell from looks alone what the fabric was made of.  So she asked permission to touch the sleeve, and apologized for even wanting to do that.  But of course it was okay for her to touch the fabric -- oftentimes that's the only way you can know what a fabric is.  It says something about society that she must ask, instead of just giving me a pat on the arm.

Not long ago, Gary and I watched The Major and the Minor.  Excellent movie from 1942!  Funny.  Sweet.  A young woman is short of cash and needs a train ticket.  She passes herself off as a 12-yr-old so that she can buy a half-price ticket.  A man on the train ends up watching out for this "child" and taking care of her.  She spends the night in his compartment.  When his fiancee finds out there is a girl with him, she's livid.  But then (and here's where the expectations and moral changes of the last 70 years are exposed) the fiancee learns that the "girl" is a 12-yr-old.  And of course everybody knows there would no hanky-panky with a child, nothing whatsoever indecent, and that the fiance was being gentlemanly to take care of a child and protect her. 

Oh, and it's not just touch.  Words are over-sexualized too.  It surprises me how a simple comment can be twisted into some sort of sleazy innuendo.   I hear it on tv shows and in real life.  Sometimes I say something and am met with eyebrow waggles & giggles in response.  I know that they've mixed in some innuendo.  Sometimes I can figure it out.  But sometimes I am clueless as to what they're insinuating.  In the name of "freedom" (sexual freedom, that is), we have actually become isolated, in what we say, in physical contact, and in the people we can hang out with.

Movies

After several friends suggested "Mirror Mirror" (a Snow White story) we watched it and fell in love with the movie.  Adventure, laughs, and romance.  One of the best we've seen in a long time!  And Maggie and I weren't even watching it with kids.

We also watched "Temple Grandin," a movie about a woman with autism, and how she (and her family) built on her strengths.  She ended up working with butchers and slaughterhouses; it may sound weird when you first hear it, but she cared about making the slaughtering more humane.  I don't know how the story will strike you if you don't know anyone on-the-spectrum, but for me it was an engaging story on so many levels!

Both are good enough to watch again and again.

The Express

Ernie Davis -- 1961 Heisman trophy winner -- first black guy to do that.

The movie made a great story.  Gary and I enjoy sports movies.  This had the added themes of history-and-racism, as well as showing a strong family. 

[For those bothered by Language, there is some.  But it's not gratuitous; it's practically necessary with what's happening in the story.]

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

Well, I sure was schnookered by that review.

The reviewer wrote that "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie" was a movie about an unconventional school teacher in Scotland in the 1930's; she wanted to inculcate in her students the love of "goodness, truth, and beauty."  Hmm.  Sounds kind of like me.   And yet there were niggling remembrances from my childhood that this was a "bad movie" that grown-ups whispered about.  Really?  It was "bad" because she was an unconventional teacher?

So we ordered it from Netflix.  Put it in the DVD player.  And began to wonder if the movie might be going somewhere in spite of how it was stacking up. 

After 30 minutes, I turned it off because the "unconventional teacher" was having multiple affairs with men and brainwashing the girls with liberal politics.   Not wanting to Give Up On It Too Early, I checked Wiki.  Sure enough, this teacher's "unconventionality" is worlds --universes-- different from my "unconventionality." 

Yeah, the DVD is back in the mailbox even though I didn't see the end of the movie. 

And for those of you who know how much I hate stopping a book or magazine or movie or lecture in the middle, you know that's a drastic step!

Stuff

1. My son-in-law Nathan underwent surgery on his ankle yesterday. He fell on ice in the parking lot, resulting in two fractures in his joint as well as messing up his tendon. (Or was it ligament?  I can never keep those two straight.)  No walking for ten weeks. No driving either, as it's his right foot.

2. I waited too long to go to the theatre. I wanted SO badly to see Les Miserables. All my friends told me how fabulous it was. I have freebie tickets hanging on the bulletin board, with precious little in the theatre I have any interest in seeing. I figured I could happily go see Les Mis more than once. But recent events have prevented a trip out to indulge myself. Today I tried finding a theatre that was still showing it. No go. Bummers.

3. Next Sunday we'll be singing "In Thee Alone, O Christ, My Lord" and Gerhardt's "I Will Sing My Maker's Praises." Ah! I will spend all week looking forward to it!!!  (Is that too weird, that superb hymns bring so much relief and joy?)

4. I was chatting yesterday with a co-worker (who's majoring in psychology and Japanese) about the difference in my granddaughters. At age 4, Alia has very little ability to put herself in another's shoes. That's really not abnormal; she's young. But at age 1 1/2 Zoe was already watching out for others, trying to console sad people, and showing compassion.  My co-worker said that's highly unusual (and it is); she said kids don't start learning that until age 8 or so.  Age 8?  Hmm.  That's not what I see.  I wonder if it makes a difference if they are baptized Christians, united with the One who is mercy?

5.  I finally started watching Downton Abbey.  Oh. my. goodness.  It's so good!!!

The Trailers at the Movie

I really like living in LalaLand.  I don't want to notice the degradation of society.  I can't change the world.  So I pretend not to notice.

We went to a movie last weekend.  Before it started were ads for five movies.  Every single one of them was twisted.  Every. single. one.   Every one was about the apocalypse.  Or gaining power to take over the world to destroy and conquer.  Witches.  Zombies.  The attempt to annihilate mankind.   Or fighting for survival after everything else has been annihilated.

1)  THAT's what we, as a society, watch for entertainment?  For fun?  Oy!

2)  I couldn't figure out why they would choose those kind of movie trailers to accompany the Hobbit movie.  Well, that should have been a clue as to the action-focus of the movie we were about to see.



PS:  It seems that world domination was often a part of movies from years past [I'm thinking of Lex Luther here], but it was always recognized that Good Guys had to stop the ones who want to take over the world.   I think we've changed: the quest for power (which used to be recognized as bad) is now seen as perfectly acceptable and normal.

The Hobbit

And now for something completely different ...

I suspect I may be the only one, but I didn't like the movie.  It was definitely an ACTION movie.  And I don't like action movies.  I'm thinking Anthea will enjoy it.  :-)

The Lord of the Rings had lots of action, lots of battle scenes, ... but it seemed like there was more story than in Hobbit.

Andrew and Maggie told us that it was such a good film that Gary and I would have no problem staying awake to the end of the show, even if we attended a 7:00 movie.  (Yes.  I know that makes us sound like old fuddy-duddies who go to bed ridiculously early.  So ... sometimes the truth hurts.  And embarrasses.)  Even though we went to a 3:30 showing, I was bored 3/4 of the way in, and forcing myself to stay awake.  All that slashing, fighting, lopping off heads, running, stabbing, and more escaping -- it was getting old.

That said, the arkenstone was magnificent, as was much of the scenery.  Bilbo was marvelously cast and played, as perfect as Samwise in the LotR.   I still love Gandalf.  The dwarves' singing (particularly the night in the Shire before they headed off on their quest) sends shivers down the spine.  And I tried to convince my mathematical brain to enjoy some of the escape scenes, where the choreography reminded me of complex Rube Goldberg machines.

So there were bright spots.  But I have no desire to head back to the theatre for another showing, and I doubt I'll be talked into seeing Part 2 and Part 3.

 

Things You Don't Want to Remember

More than 30 years have passed.  I still remember. 

The other day some friends pointed me to an article on watching horror movies and other scenes which impress themselves on our minds.  And I remembered.

"We" were me, my new husband, my father-in-law, and the guy who'd been Gary's roommate the previous year.  We'd been in Washington for a week for my brother-in-law's wedding.  We'd had some late nights visiting and celebrating.  It was a long drive home.  We needed to stop.  We'd been watching billboards, hunting a hotel.  We'd been exiting the highway, scanning for signs of hotels.  Nothing.  At exit after exit, we were finding nothing.  Our eyes were getting heavy.  We really needed to stop for the night.

Finally an ad for a hotel.  Phew!  We took the next exit, followed the signs, pulled into the hotel's parking lot ... and began to wonder.  This didn't look like the kind of hotel I wanted to stay in.  Small.  Not well kept-up.  Hourly rates.  Yeah -- hourly rates.  But we were SO tired.  We checked in.*

We showered, climbed into bed, turned on the television.  And our eyes about popped out of our skulls.  We turned it off.  But 30-some years later, I still remember what was on that screen.  Just that one small experience makes me realize how important it is to guard our eyes and our imaginations from pictures that cannot be erased. 

I still remember being a child terrified of "The Wizard of Oz."  I still remember some of those Godzilla movies.  I cannot understand the popularity of the zombie movies today.  I've never watched "Friday the 13th" or "The Exorcist" or any of those other horror films.  My mom told me we should watch "Saving Private Ryan" (which is history, not billed as Horror) but I just couldn't. 

I have friends who don't want to watch "The Passion of the Christ."  Even though I can't understand (because the awful things in that movie are our life and our salvation and our joy, and because the theology embedded in that movie is gorgeously rich) I do understand because it's vivid, and it's emotional, and it's something that cannot be erased from your mind when once you've seen it.

But when the reason to see a movie is merely for entertainment (?) or because everyone else is seeing it, why do we willingly expose ourselves to such nastiness?  For fun?  Something's wrong.



* The kicker came the next morning.  When we checked out and hopped back on the interstate, the very next exit had several big-name hotels.  If we'd only held out for 15 more minutes.... 

Under the Tuscan Sun

What a waste of a Friday evening!

A romantic comedy.  Set in Italy.  I wanted to see it years ago when it came out.  I kept wanting to see it.  We finally got around to watching it.

We shouldn't have.

The plot involved divorce and gays and fornicating teens.  There was more sex, foul language, and nudity than I expected in a PG-13 movie.  The "message" in the film came from the character who was a hedonistic actress.

And this was billed as an inspiring, uplifting, feel-good movie?

Lars and the Real Girl

Upon the recommendations of several people, we put Lars and the Real Girl onto our Netflix queue.  Because of the plot description, however, we kept bumping it further down the queue.  We'd watch movies, and over time, Lars would climb back to the top of the list.  Then we'd send it back down to #50 or so.  That happened several times.

Last week the movie arrived in the mailbox.  Oops.  Our list-monitoring slipped through our fingers there for a couple of weeks.  So we went ahead and watched the movie.

Oh. My. Goodness.

It was the best thing I've seen in ages.  It is NOT what you expect, given the premise.  I want so badly to muse upon the story here, but it's the kind of movie that I don't want to ruin for anyone.  (How often do you watch a movie that you honestly have no idea where they're going to go with it?)

It's a movie about love.  It's a movie about mental illness.  It's a movie about family.  One person described it as warm and funny and yet painful.  Yes.  It's sweet in so many ways!