Clash of the Titans
Guilty Pleasures
I’ve seen a lot of bad movies. Have even enjoyed a few, despite their quality, for the rare delightful moments that might be scattered throughout, of pure comedic genius, narrative charm, brilliant effect, contemplative “provoca-tourism,” or whatever other singular simple thrill allows me to rationalize my indulgence. I’m an optimist. I like to find the good in things.
Now, my husband, though, on the other hand, is a pessimist, and if you were to hear mamas_minion tell it, has never liked a bad movie. This from the man who used to regularly attend our social circle’s monthly "Bad Movie Night" gatherings. I would go for a while on occasion, myself, but, never for too long, because the movies weren’t actually just bad. They were terrible. I mean, seriously. Gutwrenchingly awful.
I think the idea was that if we’re all doing it together, we’ll each be able to somehow cooperatively enjoy the experience, right? Perhaps if a movie is bad enough, it tips the scale in the other direction, and becomes so bad, it’s good. Especially if you have a dozen or so clever, nerdy pals in the room, along with some alcohol, to MST3K the pain away. (Not that that actually makes the pain go away... it just makes it easier to inflict on others, I guess. Misery loves company... Might as well spread the wealth!)
And I get how some movies are obviously trying to pull that off. There’s very little that could be considered redeeming about BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA, for example, except perhaps the minor entertainment value in watching KURT RUSSELL performing what can only be describe as ELVIS doing JOHN WAYNE. (No, really, you should check it out, if for no other reason, that one is enough.)
But, DANCE FU?? This movie should just NOT have been made. I mean, really, who the heck paid to create this global offense to all filmdom??? They ought to be dragged through the streets of LA and horsewhipped at the foot of the Hollywood sign.
Now, I, at least, have had the sense to suffer through 90 minutes or so of pure cinematic torture for the companionship of good friends, but then declare my “crap trap” full, and excuse myself to retire for the evening to my own devices, to lick my wounds and attempt to recover from the torment in solitude, or perhaps with a different set of friends, suffering through a whole other kind of misery at karaoke night. But my husband, whom I first met in this collective of degenerates, would always stay for the duration of the event, which could sometimes amount to a 3-day marathon. 18 or more hours of motion picture persecution.
But he’s never liked a bad movie, he says.
So, why would he put himself through that hell? He said hanging out with friends was motivation enough, considering it was better than the alternative, which was playing video games alone at what constituted as home then, after his divorce... the cupboard-under-the-stairs at his tyrannical Dad’s place, which also doubled as a lockup for his younger sister, and a reformatory for his younger brother. Makes me glad I “rescued” him from that life.
These days it’s not easy to get him to make a commitment to sit through a movie with me. Perhaps because our evening work schedule doesn’t usually allow for much boob tube. Perhaps because he’s afraid to admit that he still gets twitchy at the thought of the mere possibility of being forced into seeing a bad movie again. Perhaps just because he doesn’t like to sit still in our bed for that long. We are newlyweds, after all.
But, we are also nerds. Our casual conversations run the gambit from comic books, video games, table top RPGs, literature, history, science, technology, physics, and politics. Sometimes, mamas_minion tries to wriggle sports in there, but unless it’s one of our regularly recurring spirited debates about why organized sports represent the worst of humanity, then it mostly just garnishes “the look” from me, which, loosely translated, is shorthand for, “You do realize I don’t actually care, right?” And, of course, there’s always TV and movies and music.
Just the other day, as we were considering what to try to recollect from our current DVR (which is almost full because we really don’t spend much time in front of it) after we upgrade to the new version the cable company is pushing on us, I was reviewing and endorsing to my husband some of the movies I’d recorded for us, which was easier for some than others. Hubby balked at a few of my choices, barely concealing his amusement at times, gently rebuffing me with a mild, “I ain’t touching that” sort of attitude. I wondered aloud to him if he hasn’t ever had any “guilty pleasures” in movies. You know, those movies that make every fiber of your being scream you have absolutely no business getting any gratification from, and yet you still find yourself unable to control your constant return to it, like a dog to its own stuff. mamas_minion flatly insisted he had no such vice.
Naturally, I took this as a challenge. The ensuing interaction might have gone something like this.
Dinner and a Movie with the Misfits:
A LITTLE LESS CONVERSATION, A LITTLE MORE ACTION.
This has been just another small sampling of a typical Thursday evening at Misfit Manor. From the Princess Bride and her Dread Pirate Captain, Good Night, everyone, and, as always, be good to each other.
LJ Idol | Friends & Rivals • Week 4 - Topic: BAD MOVIE NIGHT
This post has been brought to you through an association with the online writing community, LJ IDOL,
by the collaborative partnership of karmasoup and mamas_minion.
If you have enjoyed this entry, please feel free to speak your piece, SHARE THE LOVE, and pass it on...
...and thanks for stopping by.
I’ve seen a lot of bad movies. Have even enjoyed a few, despite their quality, for the rare delightful moments that might be scattered throughout, of pure comedic genius, narrative charm, brilliant effect, contemplative “provoca-tourism,” or whatever other singular simple thrill allows me to rationalize my indulgence. I’m an optimist. I like to find the good in things.
Now, my husband, though, on the other hand, is a pessimist, and if you were to hear mamas_minion tell it, has never liked a bad movie. This from the man who used to regularly attend our social circle’s monthly "Bad Movie Night" gatherings. I would go for a while on occasion, myself, but, never for too long, because the movies weren’t actually just bad. They were terrible. I mean, seriously. Gutwrenchingly awful.
I think the idea was that if we’re all doing it together, we’ll each be able to somehow cooperatively enjoy the experience, right? Perhaps if a movie is bad enough, it tips the scale in the other direction, and becomes so bad, it’s good. Especially if you have a dozen or so clever, nerdy pals in the room, along with some alcohol, to MST3K the pain away. (Not that that actually makes the pain go away... it just makes it easier to inflict on others, I guess. Misery loves company... Might as well spread the wealth!)
And I get how some movies are obviously trying to pull that off. There’s very little that could be considered redeeming about BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA, for example, except perhaps the minor entertainment value in watching KURT RUSSELL performing what can only be describe as ELVIS doing JOHN WAYNE. (No, really, you should check it out, if for no other reason, that one is enough.)
But, DANCE FU?? This movie should just NOT have been made. I mean, really, who the heck paid to create this global offense to all filmdom??? They ought to be dragged through the streets of LA and horsewhipped at the foot of the Hollywood sign.
Now, I, at least, have had the sense to suffer through 90 minutes or so of pure cinematic torture for the companionship of good friends, but then declare my “crap trap” full, and excuse myself to retire for the evening to my own devices, to lick my wounds and attempt to recover from the torment in solitude, or perhaps with a different set of friends, suffering through a whole other kind of misery at karaoke night. But my husband, whom I first met in this collective of degenerates, would always stay for the duration of the event, which could sometimes amount to a 3-day marathon. 18 or more hours of motion picture persecution.
But he’s never liked a bad movie, he says.
So, why would he put himself through that hell? He said hanging out with friends was motivation enough, considering it was better than the alternative, which was playing video games alone at what constituted as home then, after his divorce... the cupboard-under-the-stairs at his tyrannical Dad’s place, which also doubled as a lockup for his younger sister, and a reformatory for his younger brother. Makes me glad I “rescued” him from that life.
These days it’s not easy to get him to make a commitment to sit through a movie with me. Perhaps because our evening work schedule doesn’t usually allow for much boob tube. Perhaps because he’s afraid to admit that he still gets twitchy at the thought of the mere possibility of being forced into seeing a bad movie again. Perhaps just because he doesn’t like to sit still in our bed for that long. We are newlyweds, after all.
But, we are also nerds. Our casual conversations run the gambit from comic books, video games, table top RPGs, literature, history, science, technology, physics, and politics. Sometimes, mamas_minion tries to wriggle sports in there, but unless it’s one of our regularly recurring spirited debates about why organized sports represent the worst of humanity, then it mostly just garnishes “the look” from me, which, loosely translated, is shorthand for, “You do realize I don’t actually care, right?” And, of course, there’s always TV and movies and music.
Just the other day, as we were considering what to try to recollect from our current DVR (which is almost full because we really don’t spend much time in front of it) after we upgrade to the new version the cable company is pushing on us, I was reviewing and endorsing to my husband some of the movies I’d recorded for us, which was easier for some than others. Hubby balked at a few of my choices, barely concealing his amusement at times, gently rebuffing me with a mild, “I ain’t touching that” sort of attitude. I wondered aloud to him if he hasn’t ever had any “guilty pleasures” in movies. You know, those movies that make every fiber of your being scream you have absolutely no business getting any gratification from, and yet you still find yourself unable to control your constant return to it, like a dog to its own stuff. mamas_minion flatly insisted he had no such vice.
Naturally, I took this as a challenge. The ensuing interaction might have gone something like this.
Dinner and a Movie with the Misfits:
A LITTLE LESS CONVERSATION, A LITTLE MORE ACTION.
This has been just another small sampling of a typical Thursday evening at Misfit Manor. From the Princess Bride and her Dread Pirate Captain, Good Night, everyone, and, as always, be good to each other.
LJ Idol | Friends & Rivals • Week 4 - Topic: BAD MOVIE NIGHT
This post has been brought to you through an association with the online writing community, LJ IDOL,
by the collaborative partnership of karmasoup and mamas_minion.
If you have enjoyed this entry, please feel free to speak your piece, SHARE THE LOVE, and pass it on...
...and thanks for stopping by.