Divisions and Precisions

I guess I really wasn't

I guess I really wasn't kidding about the "exhausted" icon yesterday. I fell asleep shortly after posting, bailed on Write Club, and dozed most of the evening. I woke up enough to watch the Angel rerun, then back to bed.

I've shamelessly spent the morning reading ROTK reviews. It's interesting. Movie critics typically get to spend so much time trashing fantasy and sci-fi movies (because they're often so bad) that when a fantasy movie comes along, obviously made with a lot of thought and energy, they don't know how to react. (The exception to this would be any sort of fantasy movie that could be construed as being a kids' movie, a la Harry Potter. If it's a kids' movie, the critics are free to love it unabashedly.)

There are two possible reactions, it seems. Embrace their inner geek and love the movie, or love it and qualify that love with endless asides, like in Roger Ebert's otherwise glowing review: "The story is just a little too silly to carry the emotional weight of a masterpiece." It's almost as if some of the stuffier critics are ashamed that they got caught up in such a thing. I'll bet Ebert cried at the end too, the big wimp.

Speaking of crying and being ashamed, I really have to 'fess up. I didn't just weep at the end of ROTK. I was about a step away from grabbing the stranger next to me and covering her shoulder with snot and tears. It was only through the force of my will that I wasn't sobbing loud enough for the whole theatre to hear me. (Those of you going to see it with me Saturday have been warned--now none of you will sit near me. ;))

Can't "carry the emotional weight of a masterpiece", my ass.

People, y'all need to see this so I can talk about it, already. ;)