So if Part 1 was growing maturity, Part 2 was like the last week before you and your high school girlfriend both go off to your respective colleges. When you got into different schools months ago, you knew this time would come. For years you had been sweethearts but part of growing up is learning to say goodbye. It’s a bittersweet feeling, you don’t want it to end. You’re both not naive enough to suggest a long distance relationship but not too callous to shed some tears when you think about parting. You go on one last date, visiting all the favorite places you have shared and the memories you made together. There is one last embrace and then you walk away.
If you have ever met (or been) a home schooled child, you may have noticed that there is a communication disconnect with the rest of the world. The years of cloistered living though having its benefits; better education, absence of peer pressure, etc. But there is a lack of social education that no parent could provide. Hanna was that girl who was home schooled until she was sent off to college, a time when you are supposed to be working on the final copy of your personality after the rough draft in high school. Hanna never knew there was a prompt in the first place. Now all that said, she is a wonderful woman. Smart, entertaining, and great taste in art, she has a refined intellectual mind. The issue is just when you think you are beginning to get to the depth of her personality, she does something bizarre or naive. This can be endearing and even interesting as you try to understand her perspective but not everyone is willing to invest that effort.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows was like the little sister of friend you hadn’t seen in years. Fond memories associated with youthful innocence are recalled before meeting her again. Seeing her, you are struck by how much she has… grown. There are still the same charms you remember her having when playing those childhood games but they have been adapted into this new woman. The juxtaposition can be a little jarring, especially when she references sex, but appreciated all the same. She couldn’t have stayed young forever and you’re grateful that her maturity has suited her in a positive way. She has adjusted to the complications of adulthood with grace rather than trying to over compensate. Well, maybe a few stumbles (like when she dances.) Hopefully she’ll smooth those awkward moments out by the time you see her next.
I have never been a fan of the 80s. The fashion, the music, the style; all have an unappealing veneer. Tron: Legacy made me rethink my prejudice. As part of an 80s tribute band, her combined lampooning and nostalgia for the decade made her preoccupation infectious. The band’s technological twisted remixing of the era’s classics was enthralling. I was astonished to find my foot tapping and the need to say “radical.” Though the update needed some more polishing, a craving for more was felt after their set.
Rango would never be considered a typical beauty. I think her unique look is what kept her from being popular. It’s a shame, not only did I grow fond of her unconventional appearance but she backs it up with a clever mincing of words at every opportunity. Her dabbling in surrealism only adds another dimension to her allure. She’s the kind of woman everyone should appreciate but few do.
The X-Men franchise was a relationship that started out great. She was heartfelt, concerned about political issues, and knew when it was time for action and when to be serious. I really thought we had something special. However, things turned sour. She began obsessing over her looks rather than substance. I suspect around the end it was more about financial dependency than love. Now she’s come back, trying to convince me she has changed. Or rather, trying to convince me she’s returned to her original values. She made a very solid effort revisiting all those previously mentioned aspects I love but with a new nostalgic aesthetic. I had a great time with her but whether we have a future together, only time will tell.
So let’s see. I’m a comic and film nerd. I preach environmentalism and then throw my cigarette butt on the ground. I talk about my travels abroad and spout philosophical quandaries while drinking cheap beer. Youth in Revolt made me come to terms with the fact that I am a hipster. I resisted for years. As you may know, there’s nothing a hipster hates more than being categorized. But she helped me come to terms. She accepted me for who I am ironically unironically, L’Étranger quotation tattoo and all. Now, excuse me while I go pirate the new Decemberists album.
Kick-Ass is my lovely comic nerd. She eagerly joins me on my weekly outings to the comic shop to peruse through the colorful issues adorning the walls. We get in debates about who can win a drinking contest: Hulk or Wolverine. She has the patience of a saint as I flip through ancient back issues to find the missing monthlies I’ve sought for years like a media archeologist. Expanding each others’ geeky lexicon, we swap our favorite collected volumes with zeal only dwarfed by the anticipated discussion to follow after completing a series. The only real arguments we get in is over who is the bigger dork.
127 Hours was like a date with an adrenaline junkie. I knew the story before seeing the movie so watching the bulk of it was like a date involving a skydive. Your heart beats faster and faster as you prepare for the jump. You’re taught how the equipment works and told what to do in case of an emergency. You board the plane, take off, suddenly those doors are open, and then you’re expected to leap from thousands of feet in the air. Of course this is all part of the date so you can’t back out now matter how many knots your organs have decided to tie themselves in. Then it happens. It’s exactly as exhilarating and visceral as you expected, and then some. Your baser instincts take over. Panic and nausea choke you. Then, just as suddenly as the mental screaming began, there’s a sublime catharsis. It sweeps over you like a wave. The mixing of emotions is overwhelming. You want to go faster. You don’t want it to end. And then it does, albeit a bit anticlimactically. But all in all, it was pretty awesome.
Going out with Scott Pilgrim vs. the World was being with a girl with severe ADHD who refuses to medicate herself. Jumping from topic to topic, her train of thought is always running a station faster than you can keep up with. But what you do pick up is so entertaining, you don’t care about being left in the dust. She’s the kind of girl who has an uncountable number of tabs when browsing online, shuffling between them at inhuman speeds. The previous generation hates her type, considering her impolite and unfocused. She is the product of the information age, a font of pop culture assembled like a picture collage that can be appreciated at both distance and magnification. Every time I see her she leaves me with something new to admire.
Easy A was a pleasant surprise. Women of her genre (teen comedies) tend to be a vacant lot like a habitual stoner. There’s nothing wrong with stoners, they have their place and amusement. You just never expect them to really be capable of wit and charm. Easy A was a welcome exception in so many ways. Her words and actions were all carefully chosen showing a cognizance and awareness the drug addled minds of her peers rarely muster. It’s also noteworthy that Easy A’s parents are some of the most reasonable and entertaining parents I have ever had the pleasure to meet. She’s a smart girl for smart people. My only complaint is she left me wanting a bit more.
When I pitched this idea to my friends, they cringed at the idea of using the format I chose to review Toy Story 3 with the obvious fear of it becoming pedophiliac. The thing about a movie like this is that although the target audience is children, it’s not solely devoted to them much like a delightful elementary school teacher. Though her work is child focused, there’s nothing wrong with finding her attractive. Not our first encounter, but our franchised rendezvous’ were brief, yet memorable. She grows in surprising ways each time I see her. She has all the familiar quirks you’ve come to love about her. Her laugh, her smile, but now she can say just the right thing to make you step back in profundity.
Some dates are spent awkwardly rehashing past relationships. These are usually painful, annoying and an altogether regrettable night. Hearing about Definitely, Maybe, I was convinced it was going to be one of these kinds of dates. To my surprise, I found the evening witty and very entertaining. Yes, she did talk about her history, but with so much charm and heart that I instantly fell in love with her. The way she told me was so relatable, it was a welcome departure from the usual wacky antics (with at least one pratfall) I have to stomach when others divulge. She has the sensibility to know that there are rarely villains in a relationship. Even better, she lets you know that through all the mistakes and pain, there’s always hope when it comes to love.
A friend suggested I go back further into my library and review a classic. Few films radiate more class than The Godfather. Though I must qualify, watching this film is not a fling, it’s a relationship. You spend time thinking about her long after your first time together. You go back and see her again and again on those special nights to remind you each moment of why yourself fell in love in the first place. A relationship with The Godfather is different from other movie relationship. She does things in ways that have been analyzed to exhaustion but it’s the enigmas at her core that draw you in. She’s quiet even when she’s talking. She’s most definitely foreign despite being overwhelmingly American. She’s sweet in her brutal violence, tender in her backstabbing betrayals. The conflicts in her are so unmistakably evil, yet undeniably human. I love her for her complexity and hypocrisy. I love her for her depth and primal nature. I love her.