Movie Moment: Plunging into Hot Tub Time Machine

For some reason, I'd been wanting to rent Hot Tub Time Machine. (But then, you probably already knew that if you've been reading.) I choose to blame my impulse on my love of 1980s music (Poison, ironically, excepted despite their portrayal in this movie), 1980s fashion, and stupid comedies of all decades. So, a few nights ago I got it On Demand, my decision half-heartedly sanctioned by the bf, who didn't want to see it but didn't feel compelled to see anything else either. True to form, Hot Tub Time Machine offered up a parade of neon ski wear, legwarmers, and lurid animal prints set to music by INXS, David Bowie, New Order, Talking Heads, and others, all of which I enjoyed. Even so, I was slightly disappointed by this tale of three middle-aged guys (and one twentysomething kid) who revisit the 1980s via a portal channeled by a -- yes -- hot tub. To be honest, I think I was hooked more by the whole wacky hot tub concept than by the big hair and Men Without Hats. There's just something about four drunk guys in a Jacuzzi playing a vital role in the space-time continuum theory . . .

Don't get me wrong. It was funny. Just not as funny as I'd hoped. (I don't blame the movie for this, as the fault lies with my own destructively high expectations.) To me, all the high points featured Nick (The Office's Craig Robinson), a rock star-turned dog groomer who gets pushed around by his wife. I don't think I'm alone in saying that he claims the movie's most memorable line when he utters, in a deeply serious and somewhat befuddled voice just after the time travel kicks in, "It must've been some kind of . . . hot tub time machine," then looks straight at the camera, deadpan. Nick also brings the added bonus of his black tee screen printed with neon pink, yellow, and green combs and -- wait for it -- that staple of all 1980s stylists, hair picks.

I think that about sums up my thoughts.

In other news, I put the finishing touches on my Large Terrific Turtle Tote tonight. I'm doing this new thing where I haul my painting board (built by none other than the bf, designed for an optimum creative and ergonomic working experience) out into the hallway where we have the best light so I can expose and then touch up all the imperfections. Because there are always imperfections, even after the second coat and the outlining have been completed. I hope to have the tote ironed, posted on Etsy, and blogged about here by tomorrow night. Then it will be on to my next project, the Large Beauty Queen Tote, in which lipsticks and hair dryers will do battle with combs and compacts. I'm particularly looking forward to that one.

Movie Moment and Book Report: (Some Last Words on) The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks

Last Christmas, the bf bought me a copy of Nicholas Sparks's latest, The Last Song. Having read and enjoyed all of Nicholas Sparks's other novels, I devoured it immediately. And it was pretty good. Not as good as Dear John or Nights in Rodanthe, but nonetheless entertaining. I missed seeing the movie version when it came out in March, so I rented it last weekend (once again Hot Tub Time Machine was shafted. But its day will come.) Although the movie version of The Last Song was very close to the book, it was strangely disappointing. I find myself having this reaction to lots of movies based on books. (Ironically, I felt the opposite way about The Notebook. I loved the movie but was lukewarm about the book. Maybe that's because I saw the movie first.) I think it's because movies don't allow enough time to build upon all the details that make characters and relationships seem real. For example, in the book The Last Song, readers observe the main character, Ronnie, fall in love with Will as well as reconnect with her father in stages. But in the movie it all happens so fast that you're kind of left not quite believing it (at least I was). Also, Ronnie was a lot edgier in the book, with purple hair and an attitude to match. Although still a surly borderline tough girl, movie Ronnie (Miley Cyrus) is softer, with normal hair and only a discrete nose stud to advertise her rebelliousness. Finally, the theme of fire is more prominent (and therefore scarier) in the book. The villain, Marcus, is always juggling fireballs in view of Ronnie's house (he wields both a creepy romantic interest in her and a secret about Will), and Marcus's girlfriend, the aptly-named Blaze, is badly burned by one of Marcus's fireballs and ends up in the hospital. Also, Marcus causes the proverbial "trouble" at Will's sister's wedding, destroying an entire tent. When I read this scene in the book, it struck me as a made-for-the-movies-moment. But in the movie it's very pared down; although Marcus and Will fight, I don't recall a collapsed tent. All this was topped off by an ending that seemed to occur rather abruptly.

But despite all these shortcomings, the movie was still fun to watch. Although I enjoy writing these movie and book reviews, I sometimes fear that I sound a bit uppity. I mean, what do I know? I'm just a nobody consumer with too much time on her hands. Suppose I were ever to publish my book and people wrote less-than-stellar reactions to it? Knowing my soft-hearted ways, I suspect I'd be sorely hurt. That's how poor Lily felt in Marian Keyes's The Other Side of the Story when reviewers savaged her debut novel. But then again, I enjoy most books and movies to one degree or another. Even the ones I seem hard on. After all, even material I don't 100% love opens up a sort of commentary off of which I can bounce thoughts and ideas.

I think I'm getting a bit punchy. It's time to pack it in.

Movie Moment: A Few Words About Death at a Funeral

Last Friday night I suggested renting a movie. Bent over my Carnival Princess Necklace with the bf's beloved Discovery Channel droning on in the background, I was in need of some comedy. If you've been following this blog, then you probably already know that nonfiction television (the news included) depresses me beyond measure. To me, it's the equivalent of spending a sunny Sunday in a musty old museum. Or maybe even the equivalent of Sunday afternoons themselves, as I don't much like those either. But I digress.

We narrowed down our movie choices to The Bounty Hunter, Hot Tub Time Machine, Date Night, and Death at a Funeral. Well, I narrowed it down. If I'd left the bf to it, then we'd be dealing with secret missions and gratuitous bleeding. As it were, Death at a Funeral was the only option he could stomach at the time, so we went with that. Based on a (reportedly stodgy) British film of the same name, Death featured an all-star cast including Chris Rock, Martin Lawrence, Tracy Morgan, Danny Glover, Loretta Devine, James Marsden, and Luke Wilson, among others. The trailer had been hilarious, so I expected to be choking on hiccup-induced laughter. But it didn't happen. I think it was one of those cases of too many big stars in one movie. Also, all of the best jokes were revealed in the commercials. (Don't you hate when that happens?) What was left was a lukewarm jumble of confusing plot twists. That having been said, Tracy Morgan was the one standout. He just has that comic gift of getting all upset about the pettiest, most ridiculous of situations to the point where everything coming out of his mouth is hysterical. James Marsden was another high point, as I'm never one to knock him going shirtless. Even if he was the (sort of) bad guy in The Notebook.