(Mis)Behaving Myself at "The Golden Compass"
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Want to brighten the day of a bored deity? Buy 'em a ticket to The Golden Compass!
Last night I dragged my reluctant teenagers The Heir and The Spare to see The Golden Compass. The Spare wouldn't have gone at all, except that she saw The Heir schlepping into her coat and didn't want to miss any opportunity to be a financial burden.
When we got to the cineplex, and I was parking the car, The Spare spoke up in her most determined 13-year-old scold voice:
Spare: Mom. Please don't cause a scene at the movie.
Anne: Why, how would I do that, darling?
Spare: Just by being yourself.
I laughed so hard I almost passed out.
The Golden Compass is the second film I've seen recently that was preceded by a well-made cinematic commercial for Wal-Mart. The commercial ends with a graphic that tells the viewer that Wal-Mart "saved the average family $2,500 last year" and then says, "What will you do with the money?"
To which I shout: "Pay more taxes to fund your employees' health care!" Whilst flipping the bird at the screen.
Maybe The Spare has a point.
The Golden Compass was not well-attended at its 8:00 p.m. showing on the Saturday night of its opening weekend. Heir and Spare thought this to be a victory for them -- clearly the thing was going to bore them to tears.
Then it started, and it did make both of them cry, and they sat on the edge of their seats the whole way through it. Afterwards they asked a quadrillion questions about the books and spent the whole drive home discussing what their daemons would be. They both loved it. Especially Heir, who loathes all things Harry Potter.
Folks, if you want to see a movie where the witch is a beautiful heroine and organized religion the villain (no earnest Hollywood attempts to hide that fact change it a bit), you simply must support this film project with your dollars and your prayers.
On the other hand, if all you're looking for is a fabulous evening's entertainment, go see The Golden Compass.
Watch out for that Wal-Mart commercial. By that I mean, sit in the rear of the theatre where little kids won't see you flipping the bird at the screen.
FROM ANNE AND BUZZY
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS AND HER DAEMON