So, "Infinity War" Was Good, But ...
I'd love to write some glowing review, but I'm afraid my fangirl excitement was dampened by a Real Life issue. This movie made my son cry.
This hasn't happened since Captain America: Winter Soldier, when my eight year-old watched Cap fall into the Potomac and really believed he was dead. I had to hold him in my lap all through the end credits, reassuring him that it's okay to care so much for his movie heroes, and that Cap was okay in the end. In the intervening years, my son has become the textbook 'tween-ager: moody, lazy, borderline disrespectful, and I assumed this jadedness transferred to his regard for superheroes, especially since he never seemed very excited about seeing Infinity War (his dad and I, on the other hand, have been bouncing with anticipation all month). He spent nearly the entire movie slumping in his seat staring silently at the screen, while his father and I laughed and cheered and gasped in all the right places on either side of him, sharing orgasmic geek looks over his head.
And then people started disappearing, blowing away in clouds of flakes like they were piles of leaves caught in a gust of wind. I don't know which death got to my son - Thanos culled quite a few of the heroes with his population purge - but my husband's money is on Spider-Man. I must admit, that's the one that made me sit up in my seat and yell "NO!" at the screen, too. They even had Peter desperately holding onto Stark and crying that he didn't want to go. At any rate, I turned to see my husband hugging our son and murmuring that it would be okay while this young man, this pimply, surly brat who's literally taller than me now, forcefully reminded me that he's only eleven years old as he curled into his dad like he was lost. Then my son turned to me for a hug, and I realized he wasn't just shaking with tears, but with anger. Suddenly I remembered my son dressing up as Spider-Man for Halloween when he was a preschooler, and that a huge Spider-Man poster still hangs on his bedroom wall to this day. He doesn't talk about the web-slinger anymore, and even a comic book can't tempt this kid to enjoy reading, but I of all people should know that you never really stop being a fan. I think as far as my boy was concerned, this Thanos dick had killed his very first favorite superhero, and my son hated him for it.
But I guess we'll never truly know since, being a typical soon-to-be teenage boy, he refuses to tell us what exactly about the movie upset him so. And when he realized it was just the first of a two-part movie that will probably reset everything in the sequel, he seemed angry with himself for getting so upset in the first place, and now he really doesn't want to talk about it except to grunt that he's "fine." All we could do, all we can do, is keep hugging him and reminding him we're here if he wants to talk, I suppose. In the meantime my husband and I would like to watch it again, but not with nearly as much excitement and a lot more guilt and confusion than we would normally have.
*Sigh* Yeah, it was a real fun time at the movies.
This hasn't happened since Captain America: Winter Soldier, when my eight year-old watched Cap fall into the Potomac and really believed he was dead. I had to hold him in my lap all through the end credits, reassuring him that it's okay to care so much for his movie heroes, and that Cap was okay in the end. In the intervening years, my son has become the textbook 'tween-ager: moody, lazy, borderline disrespectful, and I assumed this jadedness transferred to his regard for superheroes, especially since he never seemed very excited about seeing Infinity War (his dad and I, on the other hand, have been bouncing with anticipation all month). He spent nearly the entire movie slumping in his seat staring silently at the screen, while his father and I laughed and cheered and gasped in all the right places on either side of him, sharing orgasmic geek looks over his head.
And then people started disappearing, blowing away in clouds of flakes like they were piles of leaves caught in a gust of wind. I don't know which death got to my son - Thanos culled quite a few of the heroes with his population purge - but my husband's money is on Spider-Man. I must admit, that's the one that made me sit up in my seat and yell "NO!" at the screen, too. They even had Peter desperately holding onto Stark and crying that he didn't want to go. At any rate, I turned to see my husband hugging our son and murmuring that it would be okay while this young man, this pimply, surly brat who's literally taller than me now, forcefully reminded me that he's only eleven years old as he curled into his dad like he was lost. Then my son turned to me for a hug, and I realized he wasn't just shaking with tears, but with anger. Suddenly I remembered my son dressing up as Spider-Man for Halloween when he was a preschooler, and that a huge Spider-Man poster still hangs on his bedroom wall to this day. He doesn't talk about the web-slinger anymore, and even a comic book can't tempt this kid to enjoy reading, but I of all people should know that you never really stop being a fan. I think as far as my boy was concerned, this Thanos dick had killed his very first favorite superhero, and my son hated him for it.
But I guess we'll never truly know since, being a typical soon-to-be teenage boy, he refuses to tell us what exactly about the movie upset him so. And when he realized it was just the first of a two-part movie that will probably reset everything in the sequel, he seemed angry with himself for getting so upset in the first place, and now he really doesn't want to talk about it except to grunt that he's "fine." All we could do, all we can do, is keep hugging him and reminding him we're here if he wants to talk, I suppose. In the meantime my husband and I would like to watch it again, but not with nearly as much excitement and a lot more guilt and confusion than we would normally have.
*Sigh* Yeah, it was a real fun time at the movies.