I don't have time to go to the movies anymore. Or I do now and then, but evening-time Jen either wants to be out with friends deconstructing things over beers or at home, sweat-panted, on the couch with bubby. However, when I was at home over "holidays" I went to the theater TWICE and it was totally awesome and hedonistic. I even liked watching the trailers, which of course, are mini movies in themselves deftly crafted to manipulate your emotions (the right song, the right scene, et cetera). I was down for it. Manipulate me!
So, I went to see The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (the American adaptation). As someone who has read all the books and seen all the Swedish movies, I can say from an informed place: It was GOOD—dark and haunting, et cetera. Plus, I've long approved of Lisbeth Salandar as a female role model for modern American women. Like, it would be obvious, maybe, for you or me to heroicize Lisbeth. But this book was a best-seller, meaning "regular folk" read it in spades. All those random frumpy women in windpants at my gym palming through the pages, and the fancy ladies in gold lamé at the airport—they all secretly wanted to be a highly intelligent ass-kicking bisexual female on the fringe of society ... Cool!
On Christmas Day we all went to watch The Adventures of Tin Tin. A tale of international intrigue—completely acceptably entertaining. Anytime my attention wandered, all I had to do was sneak a glance at li'l nephew Patrick, his 7-year-old face rapt with wonder, and I'd be suddenly awash in a wave of innocence and well being.