Not so daily noninsightful ramble: Why I Will Be Picking the Next 2,001 Movies We Watch

Over the years, Jeremy has inflicted many "classic" (and not so classic) sci-fi movies on me. I say inflicted because, while some may love these movies, I seem to remain, at best, indifferent. I have to say, even at the beginning of our relationship, when everything was new and fresh--that time when you're trying to impress someone--I couldn't even pretend interest. I'm just not that good at lying about things I, umm, don't like at all. At first, I think he showed me these movies, convinced that, at some point, one of them would click, and I would realize just how much I was missing out. Now, I'm pretty sure he convinces me to watch them for his own torture purposes only.

This image of Tron I found pretty much sums up what I re-

member about the movie--except for the fact that I don't

remember any people in the movie. Looks thrilling, right?

In the Beginning
There was Tron. Those of you who know me, probably have frequently heard me complain about Tron over the years. It remains one of the oddest movie experiences I've ever remembered--or rather not remembered. It's like my mind was almost wiped after watching this movie--maybe it was a personal mental block to try and hide the pain. All I seem to remember are little blue and red lasers and grids, tiny spacecraft, and maybe Dennis Quaid (I'm not sure about Dennis Quaid, though. I might have put him in just to alleviate a little more of the Tron pain). I remember absolutely nothing about the plot, other than the fact that I hated the movie. Given my Tron "love," you can imagine my dismay and Jeremy's delight at the discovery of the imminent release of a Tron sequel. Oh joy. The anticipation is too much. Maybe this one will have green and purple lights? And Johnny Depp? I could watch anything with Johnny Depp in it. And I do like green.

Somehow, as a child, I completely missed the entire Star Wars mania--the originals, before they became sequels to the later prequels. Jeremy was baffled--how in the world had I made it well into my 20s without ever having seen these awe-inspiring sci-fi classics? This travesty, obviously, had to be remedied at once, after all, these movies had shaped his childhood. Alas, much to Jeremy's disbelief, as an adult, I could find few redeeming qualities in Star Wars. Luke was whiny, Leia was kind of naggy, and Han Solo was better as Indiana Jones (which I did see as a child). Pretty much, the things I actually liked about Star Wars were:

1) Yoda. Have I mentioned I like green? On top of that, he talks funny--to say, it is not, true, would not be. I can't help but not like yoda--I'm an English geek!

and

2) Ewoks. Do I have a clue which movie they were in? No. But look at them. They're just cute, furry little, well, ewoks. Do I remember really what they do? Nope, not at all!

You can imagine Jeremy's great disappointment when I did not share his Star Wars enthusiasm. Entertaining, maybe slightly. Much better than Tron, apparently, since I can remember bits and pieces of the plots. More horrifying yet, to Jeremy, was that fact that I called the movies Cheesy. Now, I tend to love cheesy. I am completely in love with the World's Largest Gummy Bear. After all, who could not want a 5 pound gummy

bear that is the equivalent of 1400 regular-sized ones? Let me tell you, I would so have this gummy bear (in green, of course), if it didn't cost, ummm, $30. But, I'm still very tempted! I mean, $30 for a 5 pound gummy bear is still a deal! But anyway, I digress. I did not find Star Wars good cheesy. Even the fact that I called Star Wars and all its sequels, prequels, and prepostsequels cheesy, to Jeremy, was sacrilegious. Thus, yet again, Jeremy failed in his mission.

Just to name a few others, I've endured the entire Alien series, Predator, Species, Alien vs. Predator, and an expansive amount of science fiction that I don't even remember the titles of, which, of course, means that, at some point, I will be tricked into watching them again. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only reason I remember anything about Alien is that whole "birth" scene. I can see why no man with a pregnant wife, and, for that matter, no pregnant woman, should ever watch that movie. Ewwww.

This brings us to present day:

2001 Space Odyssey

It's Sunday afternoon. I'm relaxing, not doing much of anything, when Jeremy strides into the kitchen.

"Come on. We're watching 2001 Space Odyssey," he commands, trying to leave me no room for argument.

"But I'm not in a movie mood," I reply, thinking especially not for some old science fiction movie. Unfortuantely, he knows me and knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"We're watching it. It's a classic."

"But I don't want to," I grumble.

"It's a classic," Jeremy keeps insisting. It's really the only argument he can use. Somehow, I feel that if something is a classic it a) must have some redeeming worth, b) must cover some idea that somehow transcends its original time period, and c) probably is something I should see/read/listen to because if it's called a classic, see a and b. I grumble in my head, wishing I had been doing something important because now I'm stuck. Suddenly, I would much rather be washing the dishes or working on the laundry, but alas, I've left myself no escape route, and I slowly shuffle off behind Jeremy to the living room, hoping there is some last ditch idea I can come up with before the movie starts. No such luck.

I settle back into the couch. And wait as the movie starts. There's music and a black screen. I wait. And wait. I poke fun at the "riveting" movie I'm watching and am told to shut up and watch the movie. I look at Jeremy, "What movie. It's been a black screen for like 5 minutes. Is this the whole movie cuz there are other things I can do."

"Shut up and watch the movie; it's a classic." Sigh. Oh look! Finally something's happening. It's . . . Apes. Lots of Apes. Apes eating, Apes dancing, Apes playing what looks like Red Rover. Apes touching a big, black thing (I'm promptly informed that this is a monolith. Well, hooray). Apes now killing each other. Finally, after half an hour, no more Apes.

Not that it gets any better. The next 15 minutes is shots of space and what looks like a giant hamster wheel. Over, and over, and over. Finally! A man! Someone talked! But, nothing happens. The man uses a video phone, "stewardess" women with big mushroom hats walk upside down delivering food, the man has a drink, gets on a spaceship, and then I am stuck watching this spaceship slowly land. After about 5 minutes of watching the spaceship slowly land I'm about to explode.

"Good grief is that think ever going to land? I need to let the dogs out. Let me know if it ever does land." Yay! An excuse! I know he's waiting for me to come back, but I dink around as long as possible, letting the dogs out, refilling water, slowly getting their food, giving the cat tuna, straightening up the kitchen. I'm contemplating doing dishes, but figure that might be a bit excessive, and Jeremy might notice the fact that I've been missing for that long. I have no clue how he's even watching that stupid movie. Resigned, I let the dogs back in and head back to the living room. Just in time to see another slow flying spacecraft and INTERMISSION across the screen.

INTERMISSION (If there was an actual Mission, I missed it)

"Intermission? That means this movie is only half over? You've got to be kidding me!" I grumble. Jeremy seems delighted. He decides, near the end of the intermission, that he needs a drink and something to eat.

"Better hurry up," I advise him. "You might miss something."

In the next half, I at least get two characters' names and a bit more dialogue. But not much. There's Dave, who wears a red space suit when he goes outside, there's some other man who wears a yellow space suit when he goes outside, there's Hal, who's supposed to be an uber smart computer, who instead is very creepy, and there are a bunch of men stuck in what look like futuristic coffins who are apparently "sleeping" through the long flight. We spend about 15 minutes watching Dave run around in a circle, which means Dave sometimes runs flat toward the screen, sometimes runs sideways, and sometimes runs upside down. Big whoop. Then Dave spends some time getting in touch with his artistic side, drawing the sleeping men in their space coffins. Wonderful. Then Dave goes outside to repair something. I turn to Jeremy.

"What is that helmet thing on his head? He looks like a big fire ant with those two eye things on the top." Fire ant Dave pokes around, has a secret conversation so Hal can't hear, but Hal does, and then Hal starts killing everybody, except for Dave. Bye-bye sleeping coffin men. Thank you for letting me watch the heart rate monitors on them for 10 minutes as they slowly died. Bye bye yellow fire ant man. Sorry you couldn't make it back to your little space pod.

Then, suddenly, another "monolith." Now, I will show you the problem I had with the whole monolith thing.


This, to me, is a monolith--a very tall column


This is 2001's monolith. This looks like a giant, very solid, black door. So essentially, the Apes at the beginning are excited about a door. I don't think they should be so excited since whomever sent them the giant, black door obviously forgot the rest of the house.

So, there we were, staring at yet another "monolith," this one floating through space amidst a swirling variety of colors and patterns. I felt overwhelmed--and not in an awe-inspired way.

"What the heck is this? What's with all the weird colors and flashing? And the door again? Is Dave on an acid trip?"

"Just watch," Jeremy says. "Besides, it is kinda pretty." I sigh. And begin yet another wait for something to happen. When it does, it's a green room. All done in light green. With various versions of, I guess, an older Dave. Dave eating. Dave sleeping, blah, blah blah. Then, suddenly a giant, somewhat deformed looking baby. The End

"What was that! That was the end? That was the whole movie? A weird baby thing! I watched this entire movie for that! What was that!" Jeremy's droning on something about the creation of life and intelligence and questions about life and intelligence and I'm just dumbstruck. I have lost 3 hours of my life that I can never get back for a creepy, oversized baby.

"You actually like that movie?" I asked, finally tuning back in. "How can you like that movie! That was completely awful!"

Jeremy just looks at me and grins. "I didn't say I liked it. I just said it was a classic."

Later that Night

We're sitting around reading. I need some sort of escape. I now know what it must feel like to have a lobotomy. Jeremy looks up from his book.

"How much dialogue do you think that movie had? 100 words?"

"Twenty-five," I reply. "One hundred is way overestimating."

"And just think, tomorrow night, we can watch 2010 Space Odyssey."

"No."

"But it's 2010."

"No."

"But--"

"No."