(no subject)

So, a couple of friends invited me to a movie matinee today. Of the choices offered, I turned down The Terminal. I'm just glutted on Tom Hanks, and I really am in no mood to see him do Forrest Gump schtick with a "foreign accent" of indeterminate origin. I also turned down F-9/11, not from a philosophical standpoint, merely from one of my personal physical comfort. I react badly to photographs or film of dubya's face, or the sound of his voice. It's a visceral thing and perhaps exposure therapy would help me overcome it, but frankly, I hope by November it will be no longer relevant. In any case, I didn't feel like spending two hours trying not to hurl would be an enjoyable outing for me, so I opted for the third choice, Two Brothers.

I should have just passed on the whole afternoon.

I had seen a couple of tv specials including behind-the-scenes bits on the filming of the movie, and I had a good idea of the "plot." And, of course, I had the same information on, and had seen parts of The Bear, by the same director. I had tremendous difficulty with that film, so much that in fact I never finished watching it. It was beautifully filmed, but I simply couldn't get past the behavioral fact that adult male bears don't adopt cubs. They eat cubs, should they find one alone and unprotected by its mother. And sometimes even when cubs are protected by their mother, the male bear will kill and eat the sow, and then the cubs. So the entire movie was based on a sentimental anthropomorphic falsehood, and I couldn't watch it.

But the footage I'd seen of Two Brothers was so visually gorgeous, I thought I'd be able to suspend my disbelief and think of it as a fable, a fairy tale. Unfortunately, fifteen minutes into the film and the first fatal casualty, and I couldn't accept the filmmaker's manipulative storytelling. I got up and left.

My two friends--the very two who tease me about my gleeful taste for carnage and gore in films like Return of the King, Troy, the upcoming King Arthur--couldn't believe that I left because a tiger cub separated from his family upset me. I let them wonder. I sat in the lobby in a very comfy upholstered chair and read my car book, Faking It, by Jennifer Cruisie, until the movie was over, and had a perfectly lovely time. I said goodbye to one friend and rode back to my car, left at the other's house, and toured her pot garden, which stretches across two porches and part of her yard.

And on the way home I stopped at a garden center, and after diligent digging through flowers, grasses and shrubs, found a pineapple sage and a golden sage plant, and a lemon balm. Still no lemongrass, but I have a couple of other places to check before I have to admit ultimate defeat.

I feel good about my decision. Anthropomorphising animal behavior is sometimes unavoidable, if we are to reach any understanding of what motivates other species (well, before we eradicate all other species except for, you know, bugs). But I think sentimental storytelling does a tremendous disservice to the viewer and to the animals. Far better to attribute accurate behaviors to the animals. They are fascinating enough as themselves--they don't have to be made into some poor shadow of mankind to be interesting characters.

(no subject)

So, a couple of friends invited me to a movie matinee today. Of the choices offered, I turned down The Terminal. I'm just glutted on Tom Hanks, and I really am in no mood to see him do Forrest Gump schtick with a "foreign accent" of indeterminate origin. I also turned down F-9/11, not from a philosophical standpoint, merely from one of my personal physical comfort. I react badly to photographs or film of dubya's face, or the sound of his voice. It's a visceral thing and perhaps exposure therapy would help me overcome it, but frankly, I hope by November it will be no longer relevant. In any case, I didn't feel like spending two hours trying not to hurl would be an enjoyable outing for me, so I opted for the third choice, Two Brothers.

I should have just passed on the whole afternoon.

I had seen a couple of tv specials including behind-the-scenes bits on the filming of the movie, and I had a good idea of the "plot." And, of course, I had the same information on, and had seen parts of The Bear, by the same director. I had tremendous difficulty with that film, so much that in fact I never finished watching it. It was beautifully filmed, but I simply couldn't get past the behavioral fact that adult male bears don't adopt cubs. They eat cubs, should they find one alone and unprotected by its mother. And sometimes even when cubs are protected by their mother, the male bear will kill and eat the sow, and then the cubs. So the entire movie was based on a sentimental anthropomorphic falsehood, and I couldn't watch it.

But the footage I'd seen of Two Brothers was so visually gorgeous, I thought I'd be able to suspend my disbelief and think of it as a fable, a fairy tale. Unfortunately, fifteen minutes into the film and the first fatal casualty, and I couldn't accept the filmmaker's manipulative storytelling. I got up and left.

My two friends--the very two who tease me about my gleeful taste for carnage and gore in films like Return of the King, Troy, the upcoming King Arthur--couldn't believe that I left because a tiger cub separated from his family upset me. I let them wonder. I sat in the lobby in a very comfy upholstered chair and read my car book, Faking It, by Jennifer Cruisie, until the movie was over, and had a perfectly lovely time. I said goodbye to one friend and rode back to my car, left at the other's house, and toured her pot garden, which stretches across two porches and part of her yard.

And on the way home I stopped at a garden center, and after diligent digging through flowers, grasses and shrubs, found a pineapple sage and a golden sage plant, and a lemon balm. Still no lemongrass, but I have a couple of other places to check before I have to admit ultimate defeat.

I feel good about my decision. Anthropomorphising animal behavior is sometimes unavoidable, if we are to reach any understanding of what motivates other species (well, before we eradicate all other species except for, you know, bugs). But I think sentimental storytelling does a tremendous disservice to the viewer and to the animals. Far better to attribute accurate behaviors to the animals. They are fascinating enough as themselves--they don't have to be made into some poor shadow of mankind to be interesting characters.