I'm a Tool: Redux

I know, I know. When one watches a movie, he's supposed to buy into the whole "suspension of disbelief" thing. I know that is especially true when the movie is about aliens and spaceships and things that generally happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. One also shouldn't concentrate too hard on the book a movie is based on, because it also can ruin the "suspension of disbelief."

But sometimes I just can't help it.

For instance, in the Year of the Rollover they made a movie out of the venerable Dr. Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Jim Carrey did his face-contorting best to carry that movie to success, and a lot of people liked it. I was not one of those people. The movie centers around some almost existential angst Cindy Lou Who is having about the real meaning of Christmas. I can certainly understand how one might be confused about that, considering all the commercialization of the holiday (which is to say nothing of the uneasiness created by my stalwart agnosticism). I can even see how that feeling might trickle down to a pre-teen. However, the thing that gets me, that sticks in my craw, that really chaps my ass when it comes to this movie is that the book (and the original cartoon movie with the brilliant song) clearly and repeatedly says that Cindy Lou Who is without question waaayyyyy too young for this type of thing: "Cindy Lou Who (who was NO MORE THAN TWO)." [emphasis added] I don't know of any toddler outside of Stewie on The Family Guy who could pull that off. It's total bollux! There's no excuse for it.

Now back to that galaxy far, far away. The truth is that the engineer in me rears its ugly head from time to time during movies, pointing out that there's no way this could happen or that would break that way or that could possibly withstand that beating. It's disturbing because it comes from within and there's nothing I can do to stop it. (Although I have this bizarre vision of some beatnik artist in a beret trying to cure me by spritzing me with wine and chanting "The power of Picasso compels you!" But I digress.) Misery really does love company, though, as I feel at least a tiny bit better because this guy had the same thought I did about living on Coruscant. I would be staying the hell off of those balconies. Considering how high up they are, the wind must be incredible. Still, it's a sad day when OSHA-like thoughts enter your head to perturb your enjoyment of a movie.

Before you ask, yes, it has been a slow day at work. If you need me, I'll be stewing about how Elisabeth Shue's character in the colossally bad The Saint figured out cold fusion in "about 4 hours."