Email me if you have something to say. I like you.


Sunday, September 14, 2008

In which I, once again, prove my mother in law right.

My mother in law has referred to me as a "simple person." This, in fact, is most likely true. I read fashion and celebrity magazines. At times, even Vanity Fair feels too intellectual. I like cheeseburgers. I like Lifetime for Women movies. I like pretty clothes. My entire mood can be changed by a new dress (so buy me one already). Perhaps most telling, I can't stand fancy movies. Sub-titles make me want to punch things.


Saturday morning, I took the kids to see "The Red Balloon" at the Nickelodeon Theater*. I know this is one of those movies I'm supposed to love. I know it's for smart people. Eff that. That sh*t was boring. When it wasn't boring, it was scary. Are you a parent? How do you feel about balloons? Really? I hate them. First of all, kids can choke on them and die. That's a downer. Second, you have to feel guilty when they accidentally let them go, because now you're a bird killer. Want to give your kid nightmares? Every time they let a balloon go, tell them they're nothing but a baby bird killer. Oh, and guess what? They always let them go. The first kid to let the balloon fly is always the one who wants it most and pitches the biggest hissy fit as it floats away on its heinous bird killing mission. Good luck trying to get the other kids to share their balloons. Maybe cute little French kids are better at sharing.

I spent the first part of the movie on the edge of my seat, in a panic. Not only did I not want to see the goofy looking kid in the movie lose the stupid balloon - because I knew it was coming - I didn't want to deal with Baby J freaking out when it happened. The movie is French and it won a lot of prizes, which you know means there has to be some major tragedie. "The Red Balloon" is like the ultimate toddler suspense thriller. Baby J was into it.

"Oh no! Ballon's going uppa the sky!"

"He got it!"

"Oh no! Balloon's going uppa the sky!"

"Oh! He got it!"

And so on. I relaxed a little when I realized it was a magic balloon and could follow the kid. But I still hated it, because now my kids will be forever disappointed when their lame, unmagic balloons simply float away. Bird killers. Just when I started to relax, some rough looking mean kids started chasing the balloon and the boy. I swear I saw a Law and Order just like this. And, oh yeah, at one point the kid got locked in some sort of outside closet by a creepy old guy. I did not understand that part, but it was scary. Of course, I'm simple, so this stuff does go right over my tiny little head.

So the bad kids finally get the balloon and stomp it. Frankly, this surprised me, because my French mother in law has indicated that French children never misbehave, unlike some other, non-French children we know. Ahem. Anyhow, they kill the balloon. If I was in a high school film class, I might say this represents the death of a child's inherent sense of safety. But it gets worse. Then all the balloons in Paris find the kid, he grabs hold of them and floats away, Willy Wonka-style**. So, basically, he dies. And it's a suicide. A romantic suicide. Trés, trés Français. No wonder kids are so weird.

Namasté, y'all!

* For those of you who are in town and didn't know: The second Saturday of each month, the Nick is showing cool movies for kids. Admission is a buck and this will help you give your kids Indie Cred. Just do it.

** I'll be honest. I missed the last part, because one of my American children had to be removed from the theater and driven home. I'll spare you the details. I had to know how the stupid movie came out, so I asked my husband. He tried to get too intellectual, so I asked a seven year old, who told me what I wanted to know.

No comments: