Over the past several years, after Dennis the Vizsla Dog became a little old man dog, he got in the habit of being noisy in the evenings, loudly complaining via barks and whines that he wanted everyone to stop watching television and go to bed at, oh, 8pm* or so. To an extent, this could be managed with things like the Treat & Train or simply by the occasional tossing of treats (which Hipster Chaplin thought was wonderful, because he was faster than Dennis at that point, with a better nose). Another way this was managed: Putting on subtitles for everything we watched. Because if you can’t listen, you can always read.
So recently I was reading an article in Entertainment Weekly about Disney’s upcoming live-action version of Aladdin and, noting that the Genie would be played by one of my wife’s favorite actors, I thought I would see if she had heard about it.
So being one of those curmudgeonly holdout types who still receives discs in the mail from Netflix (or Qwikster or DVD.com or whatever it is these days) means that not only does my wife get to fall asleep during the latest blockbusters, but also during weird indie movies and older movies that I never got around to watching back in the day. For instance, this one:
So this week we finally got around to watching “Three Billboards Outside Ebbings, Missouri“, the movie for which Sam Rockwell finally won his long-overdue Oscar:
So this week I’m reading
No Sleep Till Brooklyn No Hope For Gomez! by Graham Parke. This is the humorous story of one Gomez Porter, a subject in an experimental drug trial who begins to have strange experiences that he documents on his blog. Hmm, strange experiences documented on a blog? That sounds familiar …
Wife (watching “Fifty Shades of Grey” trailer after reading humorous Dave Barry article about it): “This looks terrible.”
Me: “Let me see.”
(takes laptop to watch trailer)
Me: “Yeah, it does look terrible.”
(stops video, surreptitiously starts “American Psycho” trailer instead)
Me: “Here, you can have it back.”
(returns laptop to wife with “American Psycho” trailer playing)
Wife (puzzled): “Wait, is this the same movie?”
Me: “More or less.”
So having in recent weeks subjected my wife to “Snowpiercer” (“What kind of train has an aquarium and a nightclub in it?”) and “Ender’s Game” (“All I’ve figured out so far is it’s a bunch of kids playing video games.”), I decided we needed something she might actually pay attention to. Enter “Just Like Heaven“, AKA the romantic comedy where the ghost of Tracy Flick meets the Incredible Hulk, with an assist from Napoleon Dynamite. Or something like that.