Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Movies: A Mighty Heart

Sorry, Angie, no Oscar for you. Not that you weren't as appealing as always; even crying and pregnant you're the hottest thing out there, and we all know I feel about pregnancy.

You have a record of making terrible choices; how many dreadful films have I sat through for you? (The delightfully dreadful Gia, Gone in Sixty Seconds, and Girl Interrupted superseded by the penance-paying dreadful Beyond Borders, the forgetably-dreadful Alexander, and the simply plain-old dreadful Beowulf). I can tell that you tried to do better with this movie—and don't get me wrong, you did—it's just that it's not too hard to do better than Grendel's mom, particularly when you're back in the flesh and your breasts are allowed to move, and when I'm trapped on a trans-Atlantic flight, watching you enact contemporary-intellectual-wife-hood on the back of the seat in front of me.

It's actually pretty amazing that A Mighty Heart, dreadful title notwithstanding, is even watchable; after all, we all know the story and it's hideous, heart-rending ending. I never saw the movie in the theater, even though you were gracing the screen with a frizz-wig and attending sexy accent, because I really don't need to pay eleven dollars to have my heart torn to pieces and my head choked with a three-day migraine from crying. Suspense aside (because we know there isn't really any hope for poor Daniel), you are the only thing that makes this movie remotely watchable. No one else (okay, maybe Cate Blanchett, but she's too pale) could inspire me to watch a group of people sitting around a table cluttered with papers, laptops, and whiteboard markers for two hours, and worry (okay, maybe my boss).

So what I mean to say is nice work; you've finally chosen a movie that wasn't completely embarrassing, even if no one wanted to watch it, and no one wants to give you an award for it. I wish it weren't a true story.

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