I walked out of the theater at the end of “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri,” congratulating myself.
“That’s four. I’m getting there.”
I’d seen three other best-picture nominees already: “Get Out,” “Darkest Hour” and “Lady Bird.” Plus, I’d knocked out a bunch nominated in other categories, like “Loving Vincent,” “The Big Sick,” “Victoria and Abdul” and “Beauty and the Beast.”
In fact, this past year I’ve probably seen more movies than I had since the mid-90s.
Ever since “Pulp Fiction,” as a matter of fact, when I was already pregnant with Kid Number One. My regular movie-going was about to sputter to a halt and be replaced with years of Teletubbies, Wiggles and other characters dressed in solid blocks of color.
Watching Uma Thurman sashay across the dance floor in the fall of 1994, I had no idea that just a few years later I would eagerly leap at a chance to see “The Tigger Movie” – just for the chance to eat some popcorn in front of moving images on a screen.
Would I want to go back to those cinema-starved days? Well, no.
And yet … I do feel a perverse affection for them. I even feel a strange longing for the hodgepodge of kids’ DVDs that haunted my days and nights. And not just “Mulan” or “Toy Story.”
I’m talking the B-list. The Nickelodeon spinoffs. (“Hey Arnold!: the Movie.”) The rip-offs of more successful kids’ movies (“The Wild,” not to be confused with “Madagascar.”) The truly cringe-worthy. (Sorry, Bill Murray. Can you explain again how you got roped into “Garfield: the Movie?”)
Do you remember “Looney Tunes: Back in Action?” Unless you’re a die-hard Brendan Fraser fan, you probably don’t. But ask any member of my family the key plot points, and they will rattle them off as if they saw it yesterday. (Which they may have. We still haul it out and marvel at its strange, wonderful existence from time to time.)
Most of the films my children loved in childhood will frankly not stand the test of time. (Of course, I could be wrong. Perhaps “The Pacifier” will be known as the “Casablanca” of 2005 by future generations.)
Children, until about 10 or so, are not the most discriminating viewers. They love everything. Literally, everything. Terrible acting, botched story arcs, clichéd characters and dialogue – none of this is ever a problem. I could almost guarantee one of mine would shout “THAT WAS THE BEST MOVIE EVER!” as the credits started to roll. Every time.
Was it?
Was “Ice Age 3” a better film than “Ice Age 2?” Critics in our house were divided.
Was “Pokemon the Movie: 2000” a cinematic masterpiece? Not according to Rotten Tomatoes. But yet, everyone in my house can still do a passable Team Rocket impression. (“Jessie!” “James!”)
Were these movies bad? Well, that’s a very subjective thing. Let’s just say I still feel Brendan Fraser and Yosemite Sam were robbed at Oscar time in 2003. And I kinda miss seeing them on screen together.
Charlotte tweets @ChLatvala.