Depending on your level of dedication to/interest in all things Puddintopia (aka, stalker-like tendencies), you might have noticed something’s been missing from the usual list of topics here lately. Obviously, the subject in question hasn’t been Weather-Related Complaining, as I’ve got a veritable avalanche of bitching and moaning about the cold going back for almost a month.
In all honesty, I came this close to dropping “Whining About Winter” onto a permanent blacklist. But then, no. Because if you can’t write 900-word posts about how you have daydreams centered around setting fire to your desk furniture in the fruitless hopes the heat might draw some feeling back into your fingers, well, what’s the point in even having a blog? I might as well just get a tumblr exclusively for posting kitten pictures even though I like cats about as much as a good weekend-long bout of Montezuma’s Revenge.
Yeah, so I tentatively reserve the right to be pissy about winter still. For now.
Anyway, the point I intended to make is that I haven’t written a single “A Movie in 100 Words or Less” post in forever. And not just forever, but like, eons. Seriously, dinosaurs walked the Earth and I was a young man (according to my kids) the last time I spat out 100 words or less about a Thursday night movie. I mean, the last one was in October, for the love of all things oven fresh!
So what gives?
Well, I’ve had a bit of a crisis of confidence when it comes to snap-judging movies, all because of Man of Steel. You remember that one, right? It was this little summer flick about a resident alien trying to find his way in the big, tough world while also not wearing underwear on the outside of his caped daywear. You might not have heard of it. That is, if you live under rock or otherwise hide from pop culture just in case it’s full of spiders or goblins or impure thoughts.
Otherwise, duh, of course you’ve heard of Man of Steel.
So what about it got all swirled up in my Martha Stewart Middle-Aged Domestic Diva bonnet?
Well, shortly after the Blu-Ray released, I slipped that sucker to the top of my Netflix disc queue. As everyone with even an ounce of fanboy glee in them knows, the standard method of operation when it comes to superhero movies is to a) See it at the theater and b) See it again at home. The former experience includes heart-obstructing movie theater popcorn and enormous prices, and a sight and sound experience to match. The latter affords me the opportunity to enjoy it again on a couch pre-fitted with my ass crease, while wearing my Dick and Jane footie jammies and sipping pints of something fermented and aggressively hopped.
As expected, Netflix, being a good, reliable media provider (in most cases), happily mailed it right to me. So I plopped that disc on the shelf where I typically plopped such discs, with the expectation that I’d slide onto that familiar spot on the sofa in the next day or two and fire that puppy up.
Except I never fired that puppy up. Sure, I settled on my cushion crease plenty of times in the weeks to come with a frosty glass in hand, but for some reason, I never found myself in the mood to watch Man of Steel again.
When I realized I was putting myself off (while simultaneously blocking up my Netflix queue like a Big Mac-lover’s arteries), I started to wonder why. I mean, we’re talking about a Superman movie here, with that big, shiny, hope-filled “S” and General Zod and OMIGAWD BLOWING UP ALL THE THINGS! But, still, I just wasn’t feeling it. Seeing it once was apparently enough for me.
But, then, reading back over my Man of Steel post, I wrote things like,
But do you know what I thought was good? Man of Steel.
I want a sequel.
I mean, do I really need a sequel for a movie I only wanted to watch once? What kind of a drunken garden gnome gets all fanboy about a movie in June but can’t bring himself to sit through it again in October? On the heels of that thought came the thought that maybe all these snap judgment, 100-word-or-less evaluations about flicks I’d just seen weren’t worth the electrons they were displayed with.
With that kind of uncertainty stewing in my moth-ridden head goo, I figured I’d be better off staying away from writing any more short, quick-draw posts about movies. Which, you know, now it’s February and I’ve spared you all from having to suffer through my thoughts about We’re the Millers.
But you know what? I’m done with that. I recently decided that I don’t much care if I feel differently about something six months after seeing it for the first time. So what? 100 words or less isn’t exactly Siskel and Ebert. Besides, I’ve changed my mind about more important things in less time, often with less coherent reason than Henry VIII used to get a new wife.
All of which is to say, if you’ve missed 100 words or less, look for more soon. Because they’re fun, dammit, and if that’s not reason enough to waste 100 words, well, I don’t know what is.
Especially seeing as I just wasted 900 explaining it.
PS: Now I kind of want to see Man of Steel again. I think I might be more than one person.