"I thought that was good," said Corb contentedly, as we drove home this past Saturday after seeing from the latest James Bond movie, Spectre.
I yawned and stared out the window, keeping a careful eye on the highway ahead of us, in my important role as passenger seat driver. "Oh, it was, was."
"I really liked everything about it," said Corb. "Everything. Except for the theme song. That was horrible."
"Yes, that song was awful. It was a good movie!"
"I did like the images they showed during the song from the previous movies, though. That was cool." He paused. I hummed along to the song on the radio. He looked over my way. "What did you REALLY think of it?"
I glanced over, amused. "I liked it! I really did!" A pause. "It was just..." I stopped, shaking my head.
Ah, here we go. The moment Corb had been waiting for. "Come on, what is it? You know you have something!"
"No no no, it's nothing!"
"Ted, I know you. There's SOMETHING."
"It's just that...well, I mean...well, James Bond and his girlfriend go to a hotel in Moroco and discover they have to take a train to the desert, right? And they get on the train and James Bond all of a sudden has a black tuxedo that he asks the bellhop to press for him? And then she shows up to dinner in the train in this absolutely stunning designer gown? I mean, where the hell did that come from? Did she stop off at a Morocan designer dress shop on the way to the train? And why in the hell would they have a gown like that, her exact size, waiting for her?"
Corb rolled his eyes. "Ted, you really have to suspend your disbelief..."
"For that, sure! But then James Bond blows up the secret hideout and flies back to London, and the bad guy is waiting for him there? But not only waiting for him there, he's set up this elaborate torture chamber that has cells with big black and white photos of all of his friends and enemies? I mean, how the hell did the bad guy get that going between his secret hideout being blown up and his plane trip to London? Did he call his henchman in London and say something like, 'Go to the nearest Kinkos and ask them to print up lifesize blow-ups of all James Bond's friends and the bad guys from the last few films. Oh, don't wory, I have a flash drive with all their photos on it! It will be easy! Oh, and then can you do me a favor and artfully paste them to a bunch of areas in the old M16 building? If you could get a fog machine, that would be really cool! Oh yeah, and lots of duct tape. For everywhere!'"
"I mean, it just doesn't make any sense, if you think about it! Which I know, I know, you shouldn't. But there are just some things that it's hard NOT to think about. This one didn't make as much sense as some of the others. It was almost as bad as that silly invisible car that Pierce Brosnan had in one of his last films..."
Now Corb was full blown annoyed. "Why do you have to do that? Why do you have to pick apart every movie we see? It doesn't make it very fun to watch them with you."
I sighed. He's right. We drove back home for about fifteen minutes, irritated with each other, until something funny came on the radio and we forgot why we were bickering.
A few days later, Corb is watching his new favorite show, Parenthood. I only watch it occasionally, don't really know the names of the people, frankly. This one happened to catch my eye, though, as I was walking through the room.
This guy gets fired from his job and comes home to tell his wife. He starts rifling through the garbage, upset, and discovers a pregnancy test in barel. He thinks it's his daughter and runs to his wife, upset. While he is going on about how awful it is, his wife spills the beans: she's the one who is pregant. Surprise! They start hugging and kissing, all happy.
"Ohhh," I coo. "Isn't that sweet?"
"Sweet?" asks Corb. "What's so sweet about it? The guy rummages through the trash and grabs a pee stick, then runs into the house and hugs his wife! That's not sweet, it's gross and disgusting!"
"Oh, Corb," I reply. "Really, it's supposed to be romantic."
"What's so romantic about it? It's germy! It's plain gross, that's what it is."
I smiled, amused by the perspective. "I'm not the only one who has to pick apart everything we see, Corb. I think we just pick things apart in different ways..."