There are many good movies out now.
Volver has gotten some phenomenal reviews. The Fountain has got some great reviews and some absolutely atrocious ones, but it looks fascinating either way; it promises to be a spectacular and compelling failure, at the very least. And of course there’s Casino Royal, which allows me to see a James Bond film for the first time in a decade. (I have an intense allergic reaction to Pierce Brosnan.)
But you know what I’m going to see this weekend?
Happy Feet.
Why? Because I am an awesome and understanding boyfriend.
I’m sure Happy Feet is okay. It’s got some decent reviews. And it’s showing in IMAX, so that’s pretty cool. But it’s not, you know, a complex and experimental sci-fi philosophy film. It doesn’t have Penelope Cruz or stuff blowing up.
See how awesome I am? If you’re dating me, anyway. If you’re not, then yeah, I suppose I kind of suck, because I’m going to watch a movie about penguins when there’s much cooler stuff to be seen.
My sense of self-worth is fluctuating wildly right now.