Hello. My name is Jessica, and I am a Movie Addict.
(This is the part where you say, “Hello, Jessica.”)
They say you have to admit a problem before you can fix it. The trouble is, I don’t know how motivated I am to “fix” it. Do I watch too much TV and too many movies? Yeah…probably. But I’m conflicted about whether that’s really such an awful thing. Certainly it has impacted my blogging time. *ahem!*
In the past month or so, I’ve been to the theater more times than was probably good for my bank account (because I often treated) and rented quite a few as well.
As I indicated in my last post, I saw Superman Returns. I loved it. I think it’s my favorite summer movie so far, and that’s including Pirates 2.
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest was good. I enjoyed it—but I didn’t leave the theater saying, “That was awesome!” or anything. And you know why? Because it’s the middle of a trilogy. Seriously. The second installment of any trilogy is notoriously darker and less beloved. Think Empire Strikes Back, Matrix Reloaded, and The Two Towers. They always leave at a somewhat bleak point; the story arc hasn’t resolved and so you don’t know how it’s going to end. Endings are key. It’s rare to like any story most of the way through but hate the ending.
I also saw The Devil Wears Prada. It was good. Not quite as funny as I’d sort of thought it’d be; but interesting none-the-less.
And I rented:
Yours, Mine & Ours—ehh. Take it or leave it. It’s family fluff. It was alright.
Just Friends—mostly stupid. A little funny, and a good ending, and I guess a good message, if there was one—but mostly stupid humor.
Just Like Heaven—way better than I thought it would be. Very cute, funny, and sweet. And a nice pairing of actors.
On a Clear Day—very good. This is a British film, set mainly in Scotland, so you know I like it. Good story, if a little choppy and disjointed in some places, but overall full of the importance of family, friendships, integrity, and purpose. Plus, Billy Boyd is frickin’ hilarious. I love him. *sigh.*
She’s the Man—if you don’t like Amanda Bynes, don’t bother. But I happen to find her very funny; and since the whole movie kind of hinges on whether or not you find her brand of improv, timing, expressions, and tone of voice funny…I really enjoyed it. I laugh at her if I even watch five minutes of “What I Like About You.” But also, it’s an interesting take on Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night,” in the same way that 10 Things I Hate About You updated “Taming of the Shrew” and Clueless reinterpreted “Emma.”
Well, I guess that’s it…I did see most of Cellular on TV…that was pretty good. Intense. There’s probably something I’m forgetting, because this list doesn’t sound so impressive and time-consuming after all. Maybe it’s just that I’ve also been buying and re-watching too many movies, too.
I don’t know. I guess my feeling is that I “collect” good stories, and that includes movies just as it includes books. Sometimes you come across a good one, sometimes a stinker. Some people watch movies purely to be entertained. I look for meaning and depth and something that points to lager truths about who we are and what life is about. But that’s just me. And I like to laugh and be challenged in the process, if possible. Is it a waste of my time? What do you think?
______________________
Addendum:
I just saw Lady in the Water last night, and I had to blog about it.
I loved it.
A lot of people seem to want all of M. Night Shaymalan's movies to be just like Sixth sense...which is ridiculous. Now it may be partly because the ending was ruined for me...but Sixth Sense is my least favorite of his. My favorite was Signs. Until last night.
Lady in the Water was a perfect example of why I go to movies. It was beautiful; it had deep meanings and underlying themes. It spoke of purpose and love and redemption. I don't know what else to say. I was blown away by the movie. I don't want to rave too much and build it up too much...knowing that the critics are already griping about the movie. (So what if Night himself is in the movie? Is that so horrible? Matt Damon and Ben Affleck won a freakin' Academy Award for a movie they wrote and starred in. Geez. Give the guy a break. They just didn't like what happened to the movie critic in the story!)
Anyway--go see it, and if you disagree with me, tell me why. If you liked it, I'm also very open to discussion. I am already anticipating a long and probably geeky conversation with Brianne in which we both pull the movie to fibers analyzing it.
Arrividederci!
"Once upon a blog...."
7.21.2006
6.27.2006
Oh, Shoot. I Should Blog.
Wow. Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, shame on me. What on earth have I been doing?
Well, since you asked:
Yep. I’ve been busy.
I have seen a couple of good movies lately—Walk the Line was pretty good, though hard to watch at some points because he just wrecks his life for a while. Still—Joaquin and Reese did great jobs, both singing and acting. The Lake House was very good. I love Sandra Bullock, and I hope I don’t jinx anything by saying she’s one of the few actresses I unabashedly admire. (Now watch, she’s going to be saying in her next interview that she’s joined Scientology with Tom Cruise.) Well, anyway, the movie was good and I recommend it—if you like that kind of romantic movie type thing.
I’ve also been working on my DVD collection…I made a list of all the movies I own and all the ones I still want to get, and it was rather frightening. I already have close to a hundred movies. And the sad fact is, a vast majority of them are either romance-based or family fluff. However, that is not entirely my fault; in my house, my brother buys all the action/adventure/blow-em-up movies, so I don’t have to. Though I did buy Spider-man 2 and Batman Begins.
Speaking of superheroes, tonight we’re supposed to go see Superman Returns. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it will be good. You know how lame DC can be…okay, that was mean. What I meant was, some of the earlier Superman movies were kind of cheesy. So, we’ll see. If it’s good, maybe I’ll dedicate my next post to it. Or maybe just to superheroes in general. You know I loves my heroes!
Well, since you asked:
- re-watching season one of LOST
- emptying baby bottles full of money at the Pregnancy Care Centers
- working on my third revision of “The Jagged Edge of Lightning”
- leading worship (sometimes singing by myself, gulp!) at Community Worship
- working on making a quiz about LOST
- watching movies, both at home and in theaters
- admiring my tattoo
Yep. I’ve been busy.
I have seen a couple of good movies lately—Walk the Line was pretty good, though hard to watch at some points because he just wrecks his life for a while. Still—Joaquin and Reese did great jobs, both singing and acting. The Lake House was very good. I love Sandra Bullock, and I hope I don’t jinx anything by saying she’s one of the few actresses I unabashedly admire. (Now watch, she’s going to be saying in her next interview that she’s joined Scientology with Tom Cruise.) Well, anyway, the movie was good and I recommend it—if you like that kind of romantic movie type thing.
I’ve also been working on my DVD collection…I made a list of all the movies I own and all the ones I still want to get, and it was rather frightening. I already have close to a hundred movies. And the sad fact is, a vast majority of them are either romance-based or family fluff. However, that is not entirely my fault; in my house, my brother buys all the action/adventure/blow-em-up movies, so I don’t have to. Though I did buy Spider-man 2 and Batman Begins.
Speaking of superheroes, tonight we’re supposed to go see Superman Returns. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it will be good. You know how lame DC can be…okay, that was mean. What I meant was, some of the earlier Superman movies were kind of cheesy. So, we’ll see. If it’s good, maybe I’ll dedicate my next post to it. Or maybe just to superheroes in general. You know I loves my heroes!
6.05.2006
Wild Child
Well, I did it. I went and got a tattoo.
What? This is not a belated April Fool’s Joke. I’m serious. I went to a tattoo parlor and got myself inked for life. Yes, me.
If you find yourself asking, Why?!? allow me an explanation.
I have not always wanted a tattoo. In fact, I used to think they were rather vulgar. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do that to his or her body. But later, I met a few people who had tattoos, and they were pretty cool. So I decided maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I revised my legalistic attitude, and instead refined my objections to three (for me):
Then, one by one my objections fell. It started with the third issue: I suddenly realized exactly what I would get if I ever got a tattoo, and I knew instantly that it would be something I would not regret. Then I picked a place on my body: it had to be somewhere where I could see and admire it (otherwise, I just don’t see the point), but also where I could cover it up most of the time. I chose my right ankle.
After watching several episodes of Miami Ink, and talking it over with my brother and some other tattoo-minded friends, I decided that maybe I would look around for a place. I began to save up my coffee shop tips and other cash in a jar by my bed. First objection taken care of.
A couple of weeks ago, the topic came up again—mainly because, for me, it was something I wanted to do for my birthday. Of course, if you read my last post, you know I did no such thing on my actual birthday. But in talking about it, me and my bro and a few friends thought it would be fun to all go someplace together. In the end, only one friend came with me and Kyle. And she was the first one to get inked! She got a trinity symbol on her wrist. It is very cool. (But then, she’s already pretty cool. How many girls do you know who can play guitar, bass, and drums? Seriously.)
Then it was my turn. I was nervous, because of my second objection—the pain. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. It did. But not so bad I wanted to cry or anything. Just enough for me to clench my teeth and fists and be grateful whenever she stopped. But when she was done, I had my very own ultra-cool tattoo.
Right now it’s just the outline. Eventually, I might get it filled in. We’ll see. The lady who inked me said to us, “Careful. They’re addictive.” I don’t plan on getting any more tattoos…I can’t think of another suitable spot, let alone another thing I would want to have on my body for the rest of my life.
But the Red, Rampant Lion that now adorns my ankle….if you haven’t already guessed, is Aslan. I took the design straight from the LWW movie. If you read either of my Narnia posts when the movie came out, then you have some idea of how important the Chronicles of Narnia are to me still—and how fundamentally they shaped my faith as a child. Aslan is to me, the best symbol of Christ. And now I have a visual reminder of that every time I look at my leg. (It’s also a teeny bonus that it very slightly resembles the red, rampant lion on the Scottish royal flag.)
It’s still sinking in that I did this, that I actually went and paid money for some woman to stick needles into me. But I like it, I really do. It still is a little tender, and right now the lines are raised and it looks a little like someone decorated my leg with icing—like a cake—instead of a tattoo. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, I didn’t go against my parents’ wishes and I am well over the legal age, anyway. My dad actually thinks it’s pretty cool, and my mom…well, I have a feeling she likes it better than the nose-ring idea I still have.
So, yeah. I have joined the tattooed masses. What’s funny about it is how it really does make me feel a little different, at least on the inside. I feel bolder, more daring. Even though most people will probably never see it, might not even guess that I would have one (and I toyed with the idea of keeping it to myself, but I was too excited), it’s there.
A fun, funky piece of body art? A permanent mar on my body? A testament to my favorite books? A symbol of rebelliousness? My tattoo might be all those things—and more. Like all art, it is what it is to you—but to me, it’s My Faith. All summed up in one little picture. Forever on my right leg.
What? This is not a belated April Fool’s Joke. I’m serious. I went to a tattoo parlor and got myself inked for life. Yes, me.
If you find yourself asking, Why?!? allow me an explanation.
I have not always wanted a tattoo. In fact, I used to think they were rather vulgar. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do that to his or her body. But later, I met a few people who had tattoos, and they were pretty cool. So I decided maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I revised my legalistic attitude, and instead refined my objections to three (for me):
- It’s too expensive. (I’m notoriously cheap.)
- It’s too painful. (I’m a wimp, what can I say?)
- It’s too permanent. (I’m also very indecisive and somewhat picky. What if I changed my mind? What if I disliked it later?)
Then, one by one my objections fell. It started with the third issue: I suddenly realized exactly what I would get if I ever got a tattoo, and I knew instantly that it would be something I would not regret. Then I picked a place on my body: it had to be somewhere where I could see and admire it (otherwise, I just don’t see the point), but also where I could cover it up most of the time. I chose my right ankle.
After watching several episodes of Miami Ink, and talking it over with my brother and some other tattoo-minded friends, I decided that maybe I would look around for a place. I began to save up my coffee shop tips and other cash in a jar by my bed. First objection taken care of.
A couple of weeks ago, the topic came up again—mainly because, for me, it was something I wanted to do for my birthday. Of course, if you read my last post, you know I did no such thing on my actual birthday. But in talking about it, me and my bro and a few friends thought it would be fun to all go someplace together. In the end, only one friend came with me and Kyle. And she was the first one to get inked! She got a trinity symbol on her wrist. It is very cool. (But then, she’s already pretty cool. How many girls do you know who can play guitar, bass, and drums? Seriously.)
Then it was my turn. I was nervous, because of my second objection—the pain. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. It did. But not so bad I wanted to cry or anything. Just enough for me to clench my teeth and fists and be grateful whenever she stopped. But when she was done, I had my very own ultra-cool tattoo.
Right now it’s just the outline. Eventually, I might get it filled in. We’ll see. The lady who inked me said to us, “Careful. They’re addictive.” I don’t plan on getting any more tattoos…I can’t think of another suitable spot, let alone another thing I would want to have on my body for the rest of my life. But the Red, Rampant Lion that now adorns my ankle….if you haven’t already guessed, is Aslan. I took the design straight from the LWW movie. If you read either of my Narnia posts when the movie came out, then you have some idea of how important the Chronicles of Narnia are to me still—and how fundamentally they shaped my faith as a child. Aslan is to me, the best symbol of Christ. And now I have a visual reminder of that every time I look at my leg. (It’s also a teeny bonus that it very slightly resembles the red, rampant lion on the Scottish royal flag.)
It’s still sinking in that I did this, that I actually went and paid money for some woman to stick needles into me. But I like it, I really do. It still is a little tender, and right now the lines are raised and it looks a little like someone decorated my leg with icing—like a cake—instead of a tattoo. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, I didn’t go against my parents’ wishes and I am well over the legal age, anyway. My dad actually thinks it’s pretty cool, and my mom…well, I have a feeling she likes it better than the nose-ring idea I still have.
So, yeah. I have joined the tattooed masses. What’s funny about it is how it really does make me feel a little different, at least on the inside. I feel bolder, more daring. Even though most people will probably never see it, might not even guess that I would have one (and I toyed with the idea of keeping it to myself, but I was too excited), it’s there.
A fun, funky piece of body art? A permanent mar on my body? A testament to my favorite books? A symbol of rebelliousness? My tattoo might be all those things—and more. Like all art, it is what it is to you—but to me, it’s My Faith. All summed up in one little picture. Forever on my right leg.
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