On the heels of yesterday's post about movies, I saw War Horse today. I'm not going to spoil it (I got spoiled). It has the usual themes, lovable protagonists, great scenery. The dude who plays Joey's owner is pretty good-looking. That gave me pause. Wait? How old is he supposed to be? Am I a pervert? I got all distracted by that and then lost myself in pretty horsey scenes.
The dude who plays his Dad (drunken, damaged) resembles the father from a Knight's Tale. Maybe it's the same actor? Or is the old guy who turns up later the Knight's Tale guy? No matter. The film, though it's designed to stir your emotions, does not have a romance subplot shoe-horned in there! Yay! Damn refreshing, if you ask me.
If you have to take a trip to the can mid-movie (I typically do but didn't today), don't miss the part with the plucky young French girl. Squeeze your knees together, and do your Kegels, or you'll miss some of the best lines of the movie. Adorbs! I don't use that word often and I know it's a stupid word, but no other word would do.
My eyes watered but there was no tear spillage. I'm a movie crier, so today was a one-off. I have ugly-cried at a movie within the past year and didn't want to repeat THAT performance.
The most saddening thing is that, to me, horses marching into war parallel the marching of horses into slaughter. So it follows, then, that anyone crying at War Horse would be anti-slaughter? And if you're anti-slaughter, you shouldn't be eating meat? I have some ideas that reconcile these themes. They don't involve strict vegetarianism or anything. It's a topic for another day.
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
All I Ever Got Confused About I Learned from Movies
Last night I was watching a really gross romantic comedy while I waited for a funnier movie to start on another channel. Love, love, love. All these movies I've been watching since childhood revolve around love. This indoctrinated me with some messy ideas like "the surly guy secretly has a heart of gold", and "you jump, I jump" and "love conquers all." Insert archetypes as needed. When I entered the dating world my expectations were crazy, just crazy.
Horse books/movies do it too. In National Velvet, Velvet is coached by the curmudgeonly Mickey Rooney. In The Black Stallion, Alec is coached by the still adorably grouchy Mickey Rooney. In Sylvester, a grizzled old coot is caught schooling haute ecole in the moonlight.
It's all very wax on, wax off.
(Mr. Miyagi using chopsticks to demonstrate how to perform a half-halt)
It wasn't long before I came to associate crabby/crusty with knowledge. But sometimes under the crusty exterior there's just even more manure.
The entertainment value, of course, is infinite. There was the barn owner who thought ground manners were optional and wanted me to do turn in/ turn out of her (Brontosaurus Equus) warmblood herd. One day she admitted, in hushed tones, that even she was a little afraid of the worst offender. There was the bra-optional lady who made me ride in a western saddle with miles-long stirrups that just wouldn't adjust. There was the hoarder obsessed with goats.
There's even one I've never met - a horse trainer in my area that used to own my dog before he found his way into our home. Have you ever seen a hundred pound dog cringe at everyday things like brooms and hoses? I have. So, my fate has been sealed. I'm already a bit eccentric and crusty too I guess. Next stop, crazy! If I ever cross paths with that walking turd of a trainer, I will go crazy. Foaming at the mouth, get-in-the-ring crazy. Anything less, I imagine, would be un-equestrian.
Horse books/movies do it too. In National Velvet, Velvet is coached by the curmudgeonly Mickey Rooney. In The Black Stallion, Alec is coached by the still adorably grouchy Mickey Rooney. In Sylvester, a grizzled old coot is caught schooling haute ecole in the moonlight.
It's all very wax on, wax off.
(Mr. Miyagi using chopsticks to demonstrate how to perform a half-halt)It wasn't long before I came to associate crabby/crusty with knowledge. But sometimes under the crusty exterior there's just even more manure.
The entertainment value, of course, is infinite. There was the barn owner who thought ground manners were optional and wanted me to do turn in/ turn out of her (Brontosaurus Equus) warmblood herd. One day she admitted, in hushed tones, that even she was a little afraid of the worst offender. There was the bra-optional lady who made me ride in a western saddle with miles-long stirrups that just wouldn't adjust. There was the hoarder obsessed with goats.
There's even one I've never met - a horse trainer in my area that used to own my dog before he found his way into our home. Have you ever seen a hundred pound dog cringe at everyday things like brooms and hoses? I have. So, my fate has been sealed. I'm already a bit eccentric and crusty too I guess. Next stop, crazy! If I ever cross paths with that walking turd of a trainer, I will go crazy. Foaming at the mouth, get-in-the-ring crazy. Anything less, I imagine, would be un-equestrian.
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