What I’m Into :: December 2012 Edition

At the Movies

I’m a movie girl. I started off as a film major in college, and my random movie trivia is vast. (Ask me anything about Keanu Reeves. I’m serious.)

Turns out, even though I married a perfect-for-me person, he happens not to love movies as much as I do. Nevertheless, thanks to the creative powers reigning over 2012, Greg and I have been able to enjoy my favorite pastime together—kind of.

One movie threatened to ruin it all for us—on our sixth anniversary, no less. Here’s pointing to The Hobbit as the most disappointing—and freakishly drawn-out—movie I’ve seen in decades. Not only was I aggravated over how much they pandered to the 3-D/CGI crowd, but I was livid by the filmmakers’ decision to focus on the thwarted prince's story (and a made up nemesis!) instead of Bilbo Baggins’. For crying out loud, if you’re going to change up the protagonist, change your title, too. I worked my Bhatti powers and got my money back after the movie was over. Initially, the manager reasoned that there wasn’t much they could do for me; I asked him if he was suggesting I Tweet Peter Jackson my complaint. He nodded encouragingly and said, “Well, that’s an idea.” Then he listened to me as I declared how six years ago I was walking down the aisle and how this was a major buzz kill to how our anniversary should have gone. He stared at me hard, shook his head, and said, “It’s Christmas!” and refunded our $24. Special thanks to Twitter, near-Christmas wedding dates, and Lucas at AMC Esplanade (where you dine while watching the show!) for this one. {P.S. next door to the Esplanade is the Ritz Carlton. On Saturdays from 6-8 p.m., there’s a piano virtuoso who flies her fingers over the keys in frenzied whimsy. Greg and I fell in love. If you live in the Valley, check her out.}

A few days later, my hero Hugh Jackman redeemed Christmas, our anniversary, and any blemish of 2012 with his eloquent and genuinely human Jean Valjean. I didn’t think anyone could outperform Colm Wilkinson. Hugh may not have outsung Colm, but he certainly held his own possessing the grace and wholeheartedness required for Jean Valjean’s character. As for the other characters, throughout the film I was annoyed by Russell Crowe’s high baritone; I prefer Javert as a bass-baritone. And since Crowe is a rocker, he kept dropping off or muffling the final notes. This and Amanda Seyfried’s too-high soprano Cosette were the movie’s low-points (bah-dum-dum) for me, but I liked both of the actors’ presences. They embodied Javert and Cosette and, for this, I felt the movie resonated and even transcended. And we all know Anne Hathaway was a revelation as Fantine. Her breakdown into gasping sobs during “I Dreamed a Dream” was fully alive. I also appreciated Marius’ character, perhaps more than ever before (I’ve seen the show five times—in Phoenix,  L.A., NYC, London, and Paris), and I attribute this to Eddie Redmayne’s sensitivity and powerful vocals. I will see Les Miserables again and then again, again.

Tonight, so near the eve of 2012, my mom and I went on a rare mother-daughter date and saw The Impossible. What a story! Within its miracles were reminders to hold our children near, to trust the Lord that—if disaster should strike—children are not only resilient but impressively capable.

The Saddest Day of the Year

I came home from The Impossible and held my girls too tightly and too long for their squirmy, put-us-down-we-want-to-dance taste. I’ve been spending more time with the girls in a stare-too-long, let’s-do-it-even-if-it-is-a-splurge! way because of December 12^th in Newtown, Connecticut, where a boy whose heart and mind were not intact decided to slaughter. Dear Jesus. When I read the news early that morning while still in bed, I was so angry I punched my pillow. Rage turned into sobbing as the day grew dim. My prayers are with the families, the town, and every person who now lives in fear because such a thing occurred. Be at peace, in Jesus’ name.

And for the media, I would like to remind them to consider the facts before reporting the story. True journalism requires waiting to report until the story is right.  

A Few of My Favorite Christmas Gifts

Because of Newtown, and perhaps because our family has never been crazy over outlandish Christmases, we spent time with each other Christmas Eve and Day. It was small and quiet and full of love. We got a collective gift—a Nikon fancy-schmancy camera—that we intend to take everywhere with us (like to the girls’ first haircut yesterday and on our winding hiking adventure today). As fate would have it, since we share the camera, my dad has said camera and photos in his possession.

My most favorite gift was cleaning supplies. Not kidding. Norwex makes these anti-bacterial rags/mops for your home and body that freaking rock. I’ve never seen a rag and some water make something (like my glass shower door) look brand new. The products are expensive, but if you factor in never having to buy cleaning supplies again, the simplicity of the jobs because the products are so user-friendly, and the sparkling results of your spankin’ clean house, the investment is well-worth it. Host a party and get free loot! This is one of my goals for 2013, after I host a bridal shower, some new venture meetings (!), Eva’s second birthday party (!!), and a possible Oscar party (if you’re in Phoenix, would you come? Answer Y or N in the comments.).

Books by Bloggers

Shawn Smucker is a former blogger (he retired this month) who, with his wife Maile, wrote a book How to Use a Runaway Truck Ramp. I admire Shawn and Maile for leaving all behind and adventuring across the United States in an RV with their four children. This book invites us along to the perils and peace that accompany such by-faith journeys, and it’s both inspiring and riveting. If I can get Greg to agree, I’d love to do the same with our children when they’re older. Knowing Shawn and Maile did it makes me expectant that—despite crazy diversions and wondering where in the world God is leading—these kinds of experiences are worth more than academic degrees or Sunday sermon stockpiles. I wish the Smuckers God’s blessings in their pursuit of further by-faith escapades.