Tag Archives: Movies

What I really think about date night.

I think date night should die!

And then be resurrected as date day! A day-long event of love and exploit!

Today my lovely lady and I woke up around 1:30 in the afternoon. (Whoops–another long night of “Heroes” and herbs, and don’t laugh, you would obsessively watch it too. Every episode ends with “To be continued…” so how can you not? But I’ll get into that later). And then we did the morning routine–Farmville, breakfast, showers, tooth brushing, Farmville, et cetera–and then headed off for our day of dates and adventure.

We started the day at 4:30, catching a matinee at the $3 movie theater about 15 minutes from our house. They get movies a little later than all of the other theaters, but it’s totally worth it to get to see a flick for three bones, any time of the day. However, the popcorn is still $7.50. Anyway, we saw the “Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day.” Though it relied heavily on themes and events in the former movie, and all around wasn’t as great as the first (which is expected in pretty much any sequel) it was still thoroughly enjoyable, and definitely kept me guessing (something I’m obviously attracted to).

After the movie we were starving so we went down the road to our favorite mediocre-but-delicious-and-cheap sushi bar (the kind with the little plates and rotating conveyor belt)! Delicious and oh-so satisfying.

After sushi, we promptly headed back into Portland, and with a few minutes between stops, decided to go a couple miles out of the way to Taylor’s work (everyone’s least favorite coffee corporation!) to get some discount caffeine. After chatting for a few minutes we were  back on track to our next destination:


And let me tell you, though I have always been a fan of Michael Jackson–not the biggest fan, but a fan–this just blew me away! I’m sure the Sobes and intense light patterns helped, but that man was a genius! I was in stitches, grinning, and tapping my feet almost the entire time, except during the few ballads, and Man in the Mirror.

Great. Shit.

Laser M.J. complete, we headed back onto I-84 and to Belmont to Wunderland! to play games at the nickel arcade! After mass Skee-Ball and Ocean Hunter, we traded our earnings in for a few meager prizes: matching key chains (it’s tradition!), Party Poppers, a whoopee cushion, a few Army men figurines, a parachute guy for Casey, an paper fan, and so on.

After we were all gamed out (I mean, after we had spent all of the cash we had, literally every dollar, quarter, dime, and nickel) we headed home, and stopped at the grocer on the way for some refreshments–fruit sorbet and chocolate peanut butter ice cream, yum!

We took our lot and day of adventures, and headed our (totally not weary because we slept until almost two in the afternoon) weary bodies home, to end this lovely day as we had ended the last–bowls and Netflix instant play in our cozy bed.

Ahhh, love… : ]


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What I really think about “The Road.”

A week (or two? or so?) ago, I (unsuspectingly) went out for a few beers with an old friend of mine–we’ll call him Osh. (:D) After consuming a couple of pints (mmm, yes, a very pleasantly warm buzz) which left me vunerable, Osh (the Wily and Malevolent!) somehow tricked me into seeing a movie with him (I think it was the drunken stupor and free passes that did it). From here, an experience so terribly scarring occurred, one which I have yet to get out of my head.

We saw “The Road.”

I had heard good reviews of the book from writers of The Believer (which I do recommend, as they have rarely led me astray), but knew nothing of the story or movie, etc. In fact, it was quite the opposite of what I had expected, as in my drunkenness I confused Cormac McCarthy with Frank McCourt.

Oh dear.

For the record, I haven’t read the book, I’m basing this blog purely on the movie, but I am open to the possibility that the novel is work of literary genius (though the movie was a traumatic enough experience to turn me off). While I’ve always considered the novel to be a more powerful medium of expression (because your imagine, inferences, and interpretation is much more compelling than someone else’s), this movie shoves the gray bleakness and total grief directly in your face.

It didn’t help that all I could see in my entire line of sight and most of my peripheral vision was the movie.

Don’t get me wrong now, I am not opposed to sad or tragic movies, nor do I think they should all have happy endings, and I’m perfectly fine with getting well outside of my comfort zone, in fact I think it is somewhat essential from time to time. But I would have liked there to be more of a story, or something of a lesson, or any sort of point or purpose aside from making me nauseated/squirm/want to cry.

If you are excited at the idea of this cinematic monster, then I must warn you: SPOILER ALERT!

To sum up the movie: In a post-apocalyptic world (though they don’t really go into any detail about this apocalypse, in case you were curious) a father (Viggo Mortensen) and son (some kid) walk across America, southbound, looking for the coast, where they hope life is a little better. Everything around them is pretty much dead/ashen/gray and it seems to be cold all the time. Any survivors are scavenging, and some have resorted to cannibalism (which adds some pretty grotesque scenes into the mix). Occasionally, the father has flashbacks to his life before the half-life he is now leading, which really just makes his current situation that much more heartbreaking and awful. And then he dies, and his son is taken in by another family, undoubtedly doomed to wander and scavenge until he starves/is eaten/contracts some virus/commits suicide.

Osh seemed to think the movie was well done, and I suppose I would second that, though I know little of how to critique that aspect of a film.

If you like to torture yourself, are looking to have a good cry, or enjoyed the book–I recommend seeing this movie. If you are looking to seek revenge on someone you hate, I would suggest gifting them a complimentary ticket or two to this movie.

And, if for some insane, self-loathing reason you find yourself planning to see “The Road,” please, do not drink beforehand.

But what do I know, eh?

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Filed under Belly-aching., Critiques.