Monthly Archives: April 2011

I’m not sure what year this is. I’m assuming it’s the 80′s. It’s fabulous.

I took two twelve year old girls to see Water for Elephants. They say it’s the best movie they’ve ever seen. To be fair they haven’t seen many movies and they thought Eclipse was a good movie, they are not to be trusted.

I read Water for Elephants and like most bibliophiles I seldom enjoy seeing a movie after having read the book. I wanted to see this because I knew that the backdrop of a prohibition era circus was bound to be visually arresting.

The movie did not fail in being a delight to the senses. The costumes, the makeup, the music and the sets were flawless. I felt like I’d been transported to another era. While many movies have arbitrary soundtracks, Water for Elephants had music that became a character.

Reese Witherspoon was Marlena. There isn’t much more to say about her role. There was never a moment where I watched her and thought she was an actor. She was completely believeable in her relationships with both Jacob Jankowski (Robert Pattinson) and with August (Cristoph Waltz ).

Cristoph Waltz plays August the circus owner with a borderline personality. His performance took my breath away. Waltz goes from love to confusion to fury and takes you on a fearful journey. At moments I felt compassion for him, but always he was the enemy of all things good.

Robert Pattinson was okay and mercifully didn’t speak too much. He’s very nice to look at and when he was interacting with the animals he was wonderful. Sadly when he interacted with Reese it felt a little like a high school play where the sweaty palmed sophomore is playing opposite the talented and beautiful senior. I felt badly for him, he was cast with the best of the best and there was no way he was going to end up looking good.

The good news is that the story is such an engaging one, the plot and the music, the scenery and the animals are so all encompassing that you don’t notice the flaws in the performances.

Practical tips.

I took two 12 year old girls to see it. I asked them if they could have enjoyed it a year ago and they had to think hard about it. These are media savvy 12 year olds too. They’ve been on dozens of TV and movie sets so they understand the pretend part of it better than most. They agree that it’s absolutely not for a 9 or 10 year old, but they can’t agree on if 11,12 and 13 are all ready for it.

Animals and people are abused and murdered, but the animal scenes are more disturbing.

None of the violence is gratuitous and the message is positive at the end of the movie.

There are sexy moments but there’s no sex. That Resse Witherspoon is pretty awesome.

Say what you will about Pattinson’s OhShitICan’tAct performance, but after a fight scene a fully packed theater of jaded moviegoers gave the show a round of applause, and then they hushed themself for a kissing scene that was acted so sweetly that everyone was afraid to breathe.

If the measure of a good movie is audience behaviour then Water for Elephants gets an A+. I cried when they asked me to, I cheered when it was planned, I felt tremendous anxiety when they took me on that road, and finally I felt duty bound to the old man who wanted to return to the circus.

There was an experience the writers wanted us to feel, and we felt it all, we felt it as a group, and we celebrated the triumph of Water for Elephants even though the movie never really addressed the fact that no one gets the water for elephants. You bring the elephants to the water, but only carnies and folks who’d read the book would know that.

Earlier today Jane and her friends saw Soul Surfer. They thought the movie was okay but the mom who took them said, “There’s a lot of Jesus in it.” Jane thought that the movie might be trying to make people Christian.

Part of me wishes I’d have researched the movie a little bit. As a Jewish mother who isn’t overly observant I have a complicated relationship with those who prosthelytize. On the one hand I see them as Jesus freaks who look as dopey as Cheech and Chong once did, and on the other hand I see them as Jim Jonesesque type creatures that want to strip my children of logic and reason.

I love the idea of my kids being surrounded by people who believe in something. I hate the idea of my children being told that their own beliefs are wrong or inadequate. I’d rather my children believe in Freud and Physics than Armageddon and Afterlife. Jews believe in education, we believe in questioning everything, we believe that man judges. We are the people of the book.

I remember growing up in a community that played host to a mega church. I remember being told I was being taken to a concert only to find out that they were rockers for Jesus. I remember being told I’d burn in hell if I didn’t take Him into my heart. Still, if believing makes you a better person I say go for it.

I remember not believing in Hell even when I was tiny. I tell my children that it’s a made up place that people in power use to frighten children. I still believe that’s true, and no quoting of books will convince me that it’s anything but a man-made manipulation.

I’m as likely to believe in an afterlife as I am to believe that my Uncle was once an earthworm. This is not something I’m looking to debate, it’s simply how I see the world.

So when my kids see a movie that’s actually meant to prosthelytize I feel torn. I like that Jane didn’t buy the message, but I dislike that at every turn there’s this need for Christians to try and bring everyone to church with them.

I need something incredibly secular now. I’m taking Jane and a friend to their second movie of the day. We’ll see Water for Elephants. We’ll talk about adultery, animal abuse and running away from home. It’s an All American Story that I can relate to.

I love my kids, and perhaps more importantly, I really like who they are. They’re smart and funny, they’re generous and athletic. When Alexander tells me about his day I sometimes wonder how we exist on the same planet. His frame of reference is very different than mine. I love that my son gives me a different view of the world.

I genuinely enjoy my children’s friends. I love nothing more than to hold my friend’s babies and then to watch them grow. When we drive carpool I’m excited to hear from Jane and Alexander’s friends about their days. I like the people I like.

I just don’t think stranger babies are cute. I don’t like toddlers and sassy preschoolers are nothing but sticky germy people who need to grow taller and learn to wipe their asses properly.

I used to think I was a bad person for not enjoying little kids. I used to want to look at a newborn baby and think Ooh he’s precious. But I’m learning to accept that unless it’s the newborn of someone I care for, I’ll look at the baby and think that it looks a little like ET.

I can’t possibly be the only mother that doesn’t love all kids. Please tell me that someone else feels this way too.

When people ask me what I do for a living I never really know what to say. I’m a mom blogger, I have a YouTube channel (you’ve subscribed, right?) and I work for DECA making shows for Momversation.

Last month DECA had a little job for me to do with Bel Brands. They wanted to do an interview, or at least they said they did. So we spent a day interviewing here, and then they came back to do the second half and there was a surprise for me.

Watch the video. I’m in a hairnet, making lunches with a nun, and I’ve never been happier.

Really.

Last night Alexander had a baseball game that didn’t end until almost 7pm. I threw two tired and dusty kids in the car, ran through the drycleaner to grab Mr G’s clothes (they love it when he doesn’t come to work naked), and then headed off to my favorite Gastropub.

Mr G says that Gastopub is a horrible name made up by elitist hipsters. I tend to agree with him, but it is a gastropub and it’s frequented by families like ours who want to cling the mistaken notion that we are still hip and cool post parenthood.

In any event we were off to the gastropub because everyone knows that for the second night of passover it is traditional to have pork belly skewers. Or not, but I really really love them. So Jane and I shared three small dishes, one chopped salad, one order of roasted marrow bones, and pork belly skewers. Sadly Mr G was working late and I had to drive us all home so I had just one glass of wine.

I’m pretty sure dinner was eighty bazillion calories so I promised myself that I would run (not walk) Fryman Canyon. The Fryman Canyon loop is just about 3 miles and it’s pretty hilly but it’s nice soft dirt and if you can manage to not slide down the mountain you’re in pretty good shape. As I was approaching the parking lot and thinking who the hell pays three dollars to take a hike I noticed a woman who looked a little familiar. And then I saw a smile and I had that wonderful moment where I saw a friend. A real honest to goodness I chose you because you’re grounded and smart and talented and not just because we met at mommy and me friend. We smiled and waved and said hello and I got a chance to meet Grace Jones, her five month old dog who has almost grown into her ears.

Grace greeted me by jumping on my legs (she is not a lady) and when I bent over to pet her she could not decide if she wanted to bite me or lick me so she settled for five minutes of gnawing my right forearm while slobbering profusely. Mary and I chatted and I used my left arm to pet Grace Jones all the while thinking about how fabulous mother nature is. Had Grace Jones been any less adorable this would have been unbearable, but Grace is ridiculous is the cute department so I wasn’t going to let a bucketful of slobber deter me.

Follow Mary on Instagram @fightinmadmary

I hugged Mary goodbye and made my way up the hill. The first part of the run is tough because tons of folks bring their dogs on walks, make it about 200 feet and then turn around and walk right back to their cars. The first 200 feet is all dog pee and poop. I walk quickly because everyone knows my supersmell makes walks like this difficult. I pass a trio of very fancy women who leave a cloud of perfume in their wake. I hold my breath when I’m close to them.

After the first bit of the hike I’m jogging slowly. I’m scanning ten feet in front of me to look for gopher holes and slippery rocks. I’m a little congested. The ragweed is as tall as I am and everything is in bloom so I spit a lot.

I reach the top of the hill and now the sun is just breaking through the morning clouds. My eyes begin to water. I’m running on flat ground so I’m picking up speed and my nose begins to run so I touch my nose with my right hand and now all I can smell is Grace Jones slobber. The heat of my body is activating her scent so I instead use my right hand to grab my left sleeve and wipe my eyes and then my nose on my tee.

I’m running through the canyons in my Media Temple tee (nerd running) with dog slobber on my right arm, snot on my left shoulder and bits of yesterday’s makeup around the corners of my teary eyes.

I ran pretty fast even if it was a pitiful sight.