brigid: drawing of two women, one whispering to the other (Default)
We were flipping through Netflix movies and hit upon the holiday/Christmas section. I glimpsed the description of one and made my husband flip back to it. It's a Christmas movie about a guy who gets drunk, dresses up in a gorilla suit, goes on a rampage, and is mistaken for Bigfoot.

As is so often the case.

The movie "Pottersville" is about this guy, Maynard Grieggs, who runs his family's general store that's been in business for a million years. He lives and works in the eponymous small town of "Pottersville." The local mill closed recently enough that people are feeling the pinch... the ones who remained, anyway. Establishing shots show cute houses with for-sale signs in the front yards. A lot of cute houses with for-sale signs in the front yards. And the cute little downtown area? Mostly empty retail space for rent.

Maynard is a nice guy that seems to actually literally be a nice guy, a kind and good natured guy who cares about others. He extends credit to his neighbors... a lot of credit. It's a Christmas (not really) movie so it's light on a lot of stuff including "realism" so I'm absolutely willing to not ask how he, like, is making enough money to live on and sustain his business. Speaking of business, it kind of reminds me of the store part of a Cracker Barrel, with slightly more groceries. There's food, sure, but there's also clothing and gifts and things. It's absolutely a holdover from 100 years ago and possibly the only reason he has most of the customers he has is because of the credit he extends. You can't possibly be able to get most of the groceries you need from his store. Or does he sell mostly toys and things? It's unclear! And ultimately it doesn't matter, really.

Acting on advice from Ian Shane, a wizened hunter and moonshiner, Maynard heads home early to surprise his wife.

She, ah, winds up surprising him.

With the news that she's a furry, having a furry romp with his best friend (the sheriff). They both stress it's not sexual, it's just about costumes, and they're part of a larger furry local furry club. His wife, Connie, stresses that she's bored and needs to live life more. And it sounds like she's right. She and Maynard don't know each other that well, or at least not well enough for him to know about this big aspect of her life. And all he does is work. It's unclear what SHE does... does she work? Is she a stay at home spouse? Does she have hobbies other than dressing up as a bunny rabbit? Again, Christmas (not really) movie so I really don't expect any kind of depth to her.

This absolutely wrecks him, as you can imagine, and he gets wasted on Ian Shane's moonshine. Back at his store he fumbles his way into a ghillie shoot and a gorilla mask and goes running through the town/woods. He's just fucking around, drunkenly, but locals see him... a lot of locals... and assume it's a Bigfoot.

Word gets around.

And this Bigfoot sighting attracts a LOT of attention, including tourists which bring business to the dying town... and including a guy who hosts a monster-hunter "reality" show.

Faced with this chance to bring the town back, to create jobs, Maynard keeps going out in the suit.

Hijinks ensue.

I've mentioned that it's not really a Christmas movie because it really isn't. It's a winter movie, sure. There's snow. It's cold. Something that reveals a lot about Maynard's personality is in the first few minutes of the movie - he shovels his store's sidewalk nice and clear... and then shovels the sidewalk inside of the empty storefronts. There's a Christmas tree lighting and people talk about money being extra tight because of "the holiday." And later on there's some limp discussion of "holiday spirit" and blah blah blah. But it feels absolutely unnecessary. You can cut the references out entirely and it'd be the same movie.

It's pretty lighthearted and equally predictable but with a healthy layer of WEIRD threaded through it that saves it.
brigid: drawing of two women, one whispering to the other (me)

Mirrored from Words, words, words, art..

I’m sure you’re interested in more hot takes on my ass and preparing for a pilonidal surgery but instead I’m going to talk about “Star Wars: The Force Awakens.” Obviously there will be spoilers.

There is a problem with people of a certain age writing about Star Wars. For many of us, there is no time before Star Wars, no time we don’t remember having seen it. It’s sunk deep into our bones, soaked into our souls, flavoring the stories we’ve told ourselves and the play we’ve shared with others. So when a Star Wars movie or tv show or book comes out, it’s hard to separate our sense of self from what we’re consuming. It’s hard to accurately judge the product because there’s so much established emotion, context, hope, love, and projection going on. There are high standards to meet, but enough love and good will that a mediocre product can still be lofted up as long as it hits the right notes. The Prequels didn’t hit the right notes, for a number of reasons.

“Star Wars: Rebels” does hit the right notes, albeit on a smaller and more intimate scale. Please read more behind the cut.

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