Happy Feet?
Last night Jason & I watched Happy Feet--sometimes it just pays to be at the top of the hold list at the library!
I found it to be a thoroughly good movie, if a bit over-preachy on the whole don't suck the earth dry of its resources line. Not that I disagree with the sentiment, but it felt a bit indoctrinational, especially considering the target audience. I also concluded that if Over the Hedge was about why suburbs are bad, Happy Feet is about why zoos are bad. Now I feel bad for watching the penguins at Sea World.
Well, if you haven't seen it, there's a good ending to the story. So you should see it. My big surprise actually came at my huge emotional response to the movie. Yes, we all know I'm a big softy and I "love to cry" in the words of my husband, but I really haven't been that emotionally engaged in a movie since Frodo's been on the way. Until last night. I was just sobbing and sobbing at the beginning of the movie--from the point when Mumble is in school and up through the graduation dance/party. What in the world? I'm not going to pretend that high school was my niche in this life or that I wasn't happy to be done with high school. I don't know. Maybe I'm just really in tune to the emotions of the rejected lately. Maybe part of that is the immigrant experience--starting over as an adult, but in a place where I've only ever been an adult, forging new friendships, stepping tenatively because I don't know the tune here. Well, I do now to a much larger degree, but I still feel different. Maybe it's not the immigrant part so much as it's the part of me that isn't from here--wherever here is. The part of me that was asked by my Spanish prof at university whether I actually spoke Spanish. The part of me that fit right in in Tanzania, but got wide-eyed looks from children on the bus. The part of me that still jiggles my head when I'm talking to East Indians. The part of my that won't stop saying "knackered" instead of tired. The part of my that has wildly embraced Canada and an Ontarian accent while still saying "mauve" properly (rhymes with suave) and declaring boldly that I was born the citizen of another nation.
So that's me.
I found it to be a thoroughly good movie, if a bit over-preachy on the whole don't suck the earth dry of its resources line. Not that I disagree with the sentiment, but it felt a bit indoctrinational, especially considering the target audience. I also concluded that if Over the Hedge was about why suburbs are bad, Happy Feet is about why zoos are bad. Now I feel bad for watching the penguins at Sea World.
Well, if you haven't seen it, there's a good ending to the story. So you should see it. My big surprise actually came at my huge emotional response to the movie. Yes, we all know I'm a big softy and I "love to cry" in the words of my husband, but I really haven't been that emotionally engaged in a movie since Frodo's been on the way. Until last night. I was just sobbing and sobbing at the beginning of the movie--from the point when Mumble is in school and up through the graduation dance/party. What in the world? I'm not going to pretend that high school was my niche in this life or that I wasn't happy to be done with high school. I don't know. Maybe I'm just really in tune to the emotions of the rejected lately. Maybe part of that is the immigrant experience--starting over as an adult, but in a place where I've only ever been an adult, forging new friendships, stepping tenatively because I don't know the tune here. Well, I do now to a much larger degree, but I still feel different. Maybe it's not the immigrant part so much as it's the part of me that isn't from here--wherever here is. The part of me that was asked by my Spanish prof at university whether I actually spoke Spanish. The part of me that fit right in in Tanzania, but got wide-eyed looks from children on the bus. The part of me that still jiggles my head when I'm talking to East Indians. The part of my that won't stop saying "knackered" instead of tired. The part of my that has wildly embraced Canada and an Ontarian accent while still saying "mauve" properly (rhymes with suave) and declaring boldly that I was born the citizen of another nation.
So that's me.
posted by Judy Baskerville at
4:49 PM
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