A Drivel in Three Parts

I.

I like to go to the movies alone.

Maybe this is too strong a statement. I mean it's on a line by itself and everything so I should definitely dumb it down.

When I call my friends to go see a movie with me and everyone is being dumb, or I don't feel like trying very hard to get people to go someplace with me, I will very contentedly see the movie by myself. I spend $3.00 on a small coke that will lead to an inevitable pee break which will leave me in bad humor, but that's ok because I knew ahead of time it was going to happen, and then I'll try to laugh at myself but still actually, deep down, I'm pretty mad. Because I had to get up to pee in the middle of the movie. There is no one there to beat me at the dumb pre-movie trivia games so usually I get 100% correct all by myself. I watch the people coming in which is fun, and experience the mildest type of paranoia in which I assume everybody that glances my way is wondering what's wrong with that guy, why is he here all by himself but then I remind myself that actually nobody cares, or if they do I probably don't care that they care, and I grow deeply calm. Which is the best way to watch a movie.

II.

I went to see "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" in exactly this manner about a week ago. It was a well-put together, funny, and sweet movie--I mean, Judd Apatow--which is ultimately very forgettable. But you're glad you saw it, you know? Some moments are just really... adorable, like our protagonist in a black unitard smiling at the girl of his future having just performed his struggling pet project, a Dracula Puppet musical which will charm your socks off and make you laugh. Oops, I just told you the ending. The whole movie is just painful, earnest kitsch thrown out there with a "Ba dup, bap, ba dup, dup, BUP! [slide whistle]." One of the thoughts that passes through my head as I drive home is "It's cool to see some regular looking people in the movies!" Then I have to correct myself and be like, wait, regular looking guys in the movies, because those women were cooked to smokin' hot perfection by the magic celluloid flames of hungry Hollywood (I'm pretty sure they haven't used celluloid since, like, the 20s but whatevah). So, I guess that makes the film passively misogynistic.

I think the funniest parts may have been the fake-TV trailer bits. So deadpan, so not funny, and so absolutely and hilariously damning of pretty much every procedural crime drama currently on the air. SKEWERED the dialogue and character tropes, like, would you like a meathead male sidekick kebab with with some lame-comments-on-the-exposition sauce? I know! Isn't the supernatural twist on the detective's abilities marinade DELICIOUS!?!?

III.

I missed the "My So-Called Life" thing in the mid-nineties. I remember seeing it once and thinking "Nice flannel." Anyway, I watched the pilot and, I dunno. Claire Danes is kind of amazing, and there are some one liners that just ZING, and you remember how confusing everything was in high school and how stupid you were. Then I think about how confusing everything is and how stupid I am...

It's definitely different than the average teen-lit drama fest, so I'll watch a few more to decide if I can make it through the whole thing.