Boobies!

It's the middle of the month and I just feel I haven't taken ten minutes to unleash unnecessary personal judgments against people I don't know in a long time, so here goes.

The Internet Movie Database. We all know it and love it and can't live without it, but have you ever looked through the message boards attached to some movies? I mean really looked? There’s a pattern of sometimes young, sometimes just very, very strange users who ask, "How much nudity is in this movie?" or "Is this movie too violent?" as if someone else can properly judge how much is too much for another person.

This last one, asked of The Fantastic Four back when all I'd seen was the trailer, complete with Dr. Doom tossing his doctor through glass after he gave him some bad news (and who wouldn’t want to do that? Come on), came from a kid whose parents wouldn't let her (or him, I can never be sure about these things) see the movie if there was blood. You know, there can be killing, but for the love of all that's holy, don't show it how it really is. Like in House Of Sand And Fog. There are some scenes in that movie that top the horror of every cut-em-up I've ever seen.

I understand that with summertime popcorn flicks though, who really wants to go all Marnie in the middle of a date? I mean, I thought the explodey brain thing in Mission Impossible III was pretty gross, but compared to the camerawork, it was clever. But then I've watched The Toolbox Murders and believe me, that kid's parents would not want me showing that movie to their child. Bad enough I replied something along the lines of, "Supervillians tend to damage people," but then I remembered I am not the world's conscience and got away from the message boards again as fast as possible before my own head went all explodey.

The Osterman Weekend was on the other night, that's what put this thought in my head. I know I watched that movie a lot as a kid (two words: Rutger Hauer), but all I could remember about it now was Meg Foster asking what was going on, the swimming pool being on fire, and everybody having sex at the same time. Lots and lots of '80s movie sex. Being it's now twenty-something years later, Nan and I had a good laugh about that. Not that she didn't have had a laugh about it then, too, but I was one of those awful stuck-up prudes I am now ripping in this post. I just found out today that Sam Peckinpah directed The Osterman Weekend, and that explains a lot, and makes me as happy as any other Monty Python fan who remembers Salad Days would expect.

In the '80s there was no message board where people would go and warn each other that movies weren't for kids. Was it better that way? I don't know, I got to see a lot of good movies and I never had any "embarrassing questions" later on in life. I also learned not to turn my back on closets, dark windows, or lakes. These kids today don't know the important life lessons they're missing avoiding movies just because of a little fake sex and violence. I'd love to see these kids when their grandparents say, "You know what movie I loved when I was your age? Halloween." Those kids on IMDB talk about feeling uncomfortable watching sex and violence in movies with their parents and grandparents? Their parents and grandparents invented sex and violence.

Boobies!