Sunday, January 08, 2006

Sex and Two Movies

First, the sex:
A friend of mine and I started talking about sex and self esteem and all that jazz recently, and it got me thinking about how messed up our puritanical society has made us all. We think of ourselves as so modern and worldly, but those Calvinist pilgrims—who tainted Plymouth Rock with their pinched up little brains 400 years ago—live on in us still. Janet Jackson exposes a (large) pasty over a nipple for two seconds on national TV? Shocking! And then all the networks go into The Heaves over potentially salacious content for the next two years (and counting). Oh dear God, please, all of us—grow up already!

Men still think that “size matters” and that the whole universe revolves around their Special Little Friend, and sure, I guess I can sympathize with this attitude; but, as a woman, I’d really, really hate to have to deal with a weird little alien thing with a mind of its own stuck onto the front of me on a daily basis. The whole “pants leg and zipper” thing seems like a problem right there. (Why don’t men wear skirts again?) Anyway, I’m glad I don’t have one. Still, apparently the things are, for the most part, (or so I’m told), totally reliable as Mr. Happy Fun Easy Access Any Time. I suppose that would make up for a lot. Maybe. But, to all men everywhere: women don’t really care about size that much (and stop right there, I don’t need your e-mails to the contrary). If we really want a Big One we’ll go and buy it, (batteries not included). Sorry, guys, but this is just how it is. Men: it’s what you do with your equipment (and by this I mean not just Mr. Happy, but especially your brain, hands, etc.), that really matters in the sack. Knowing where “front and center” really are on your woman doesn’t hurt either, if you catch my drift. (If you need to know more on this subject, check out Episode 6, Season Four of the awesomely great BBC America show Coupling.)

Now, women are not by any means exempt, we worry way too much about boob size and just how big our butts are. How messed up is that? “One part of me is too small, but just a foot and a half further south all the rest of me is too big! Oh no!” I mean come on…why not just be happy with all of it, big or small? Women in Hollywood are currently starving themselves to death so that they can get that oh-so-trendy “cadaver” look—personally, if I was a man, I would not want my lover to clank when we were getting it on. Of course, the media is to blame for women’s poor body image, but so are men. How many times have I heard a dude say, “I’ll tap anything, anywhere, anytime, just as long as she’s got a pulse. No fatties.”? Really guys, what are women supposed to take from that kind of statement?

Anyway: boys, “It’s not the meat, it’s the motion”, (thank you Maria Muldaur), and girls: you are fine, go ahead and eat something. If Keira Knightly can be happy with her completely flat chest, then you are Pam Anderson, (but more life-like). Be happy.

• • •

Movie 1: Grandma’s Boy
My daughter is now of driving age. She’s taken Driver’s Ed. She keeps asking me, “Won’t it be better for you when I have my own car and I can drive myself places?” No, it will not. When she is out driving around on her own, I will be a mass of stress beyond all scope. You’ll know it when you see it—I’ll be the one in the corner shivering, drooling and praying to God (who I’ll now be on speaking terms with). This is why I still end up doing things I would not, in any sane world, do on my own, such as see Grandma’s Boy. But, on Friday, this is just what we did (it was her boyfriend’s fault).

Grandma’s Boy is basically about a thirty-something game tester (but please, I think that guy is at least in his forties), who through conspicuous use of the devil weed loses his housing and is forced to move in with his grandmother and her two old lady roommates. I was embarrassed to find that this movie was very R rated, which I love on my own, but not when my daughter and her friend are somewhere in the room with me. Anyhoo, long story short, there were plenty of funny bits, but not really enough for anyone over the age of 25 to make this one worth the price of admission. Or even rental. If you are frat boy, you’ll probably love it: it’s got weed and boobs and even a Kung Fu monkey. I was more concerned about how the gamer community would be presented, and on that regard, it wasn’t too bad. The movie got some things spot on: kudos for the conspicuous use of T-shirts from Jinx (, the gamer’s apparel of choice. I also think that the genius game programmer dude who thinks he’s a robot was modeled in part on the brilliant-but-über-freaky Steve Mann (, who’s life work is to turn himself into a cyborg. Really. I’ve talked to this guy in person, and I can attest that he is both a freak and really, really smart. The guy in the movie even looks like a younger version of Mr. Mann, so maybe the character of JP was modeled on him. The game tester workspace looked exactly like the cubicle farm at the G4 Network, so that was about right too. All in all, unlike a lot of frat-boy flicks, the movie treats everyone with at least some respect, and it has a very sweet undertone that I really liked. Plus, Shirley Jones put the mojo back in movies with a vengeance—move over, Angelina Jolie. Damn, that is one hot 72 year old broad, and she plays it to the hilt. To the total credit of the film makers, they did not really treat hot grandma sex as something to be laughed at, and I loved that. Things I didn’t love? Why is Grandmas Getting Baked supposed to be so funny? Sure, but, please, it’s been done to death already. My recommendation? Um, if you liked Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle, you’ll probably like Grandma’s Boy. I liked HAKGTWC more, but the 16 year old boy with us liked this one better. Go figure. This one had more breasts. Booth babe breasts.

Movie 2: Munich
I had some time on my own yesterday (sweet, sweet, precious alone time!), and I chose to spend it, like I almost always do, at a movie. My choice was Munich. I won’t go into an exhaustive review (well, we’ll see in a few minutes). This is s Spielberg film, and that usually means Big Slick Production Values with a High Concept Message. This movie was apparently filmed very quickly last summer, and it shows, but in a good way. This movie is not quite like anything else Mr. Spielberg has done. The high concept message is there, but the production values were refreshingly rough and ready. Yes, it’s about Jews in Danger, but it doesn’t have that patented Spielberg look-and-feel, and I for one appreciated the change. Eric Bana was great—he has just the right blend of pathos and hot, studly muscles—he looked good but can also act. The movie is about what Golda Meir and the Israeli government do after the 1972 Palestinian assassination of eleven Olympic team members in Munich. Two things did strike me as wrong: why would the Israeli’s form an assassination team out of people with no skills or at least very limited background in this area? There is a throw-away line that explains this away as, “If we have no skills, the other side won’t suspect us”. I’m not convinced, but I guess this is what actually happened? Also, why do film makers always show moral decline with makeup? I’m sorry—you can be morally compromised without dark bags under your eyes and white pancake foundation. Bana is supposed to look haggard by the end of the movie, but Mr. Spielberg, please, let the acting do the work. Near the end of the movie there is also a sex scene that was cheesy in the extreme and which took me right out of the action. The movie is supposed to be all about what Home and Family really mean, and what people will do to protect them, but Woman’s Body as Homeland Substitute was too much for me. My recommendation? Yes, go ahead and see Munich, but leave the kids at home. This is a movie for grownups, and indeed, the theater I was in had a median age of about 50. There is nothing in Munich for frat-boys.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home