Movie Review Monday: Mirror, Mirror vs. Snow White and the Huntsman

I find pop culture trends fascinating. There has been a recent obsession with classic fairy tales, which is cool, but I was pretty surprised when Mirror, Mirror and Snow White and the Huntsman came out within months of each other. I have now seen them both and thought that warranted a side-by-side comparison, but I'm just going to compare the characters since everything else about the films is a bit of a jumble in my head. 

Snow White:
MM - Lived up to her "fairest" description. Stuck up for herself and was brave. Totally looked like Audrey Hepburn in the last shot of the film, which gives her points in my book.
SWatH - I guess she's pretty. It's hard to tell when she barely ever smiles or emotes. Total wimp. Clearly this review is tainted by Twilight and tabloid gossip. Sorry.

Right?! Picture borrowed from here.

Leading Man:
MM - The prince. goofy, yet honorable and lovable with good intentions. Not much chemistry with Snow though. Seemed too old for her, though my BFF imdb says they're just a few years apart. Sidenote: He was played by Armie Hammer, who I think would make a perfect Finnick in Catching Fire.
SWatH - The huntsman. Brooding and strong. Admittedly great chemistry with Snow. Wields an ax with the confidence of Thor wielding his hammer. (Wah, wah.)

Evil Queen:
MM - Julia Roberts playing a silly game of dress up, not really acting. If you like her - which I do - this is not a terrible thing. Also, her costumes are awesome.
SWatH - Charlize Theron being British? Bathing in white out? Crazy-talking to her mirror which is actually a gong? I just...no, Charlize. Bad, Charlize. Sit. 

Oh, calm down, drama queen. Photo borrowed from here.

Dwarves:
MM - Lovable band of thieves played by a group of awesome, unknown actors.
SWatH - Lovable band of hermits played by a group of awesome, recognizable actors.

Rating:
MM - 1 claw up for a silly, entertaining time.
SWatH - 1 claw up for beautiful cinematography and a nice romantic storyline.

some thoughts on beauty, aimed at the ladies

Here's some self-deprecation, but don't worry - this is a happy post:

I've been thinking about beauty a lot lately. Maybe it's because my hormones from breastfeeding (bye, bye, male readers) this past year have caused dark patches of skin to appear on my face, and those patches just happen to be on my upper lip so it looks like I have a mustache. And not a cool hipster trendy mustache, but a sad, preteen-boy-who-hasn't-learned-to-shave-yet mustache. Or maybe it's because I just stopped breastfeeding a couple weeks ago so now I'm back to being flatter than a disappointing pancake. Or maybe it's because I'm tired of my wardrobe, which has recently started to be a humdrum rotation of a handful of items, most of which make me feel frumpy. Oh. Ennui.

Here's what I do, though:

I think about all of these things for approximately ten minutes each morning. While I'm attempting (and failing) to cover up my fauxstache with makeup. As I'm slinging on a slightly padded bra. When I'm yawning at my closet and resigning myself to wearing a tee-shirt and jeans for the sixth day in a row. But once all that is done, I stop thinking about it. If I pass a mirror, I don't stop to ogle and criticize myself. I don't tote around a makeup bad to touch up my face sporadically throughout the day. 

See? I'm GORGEOUS. Photo by Mikkele.

Here's why:

This is just terrible, but I have a pretty close friend who I found remarkably unattractive at first sight. As I got to know her, though, I saw that she was truly beautiful, and not just with some vague inner beauty, though that's probably what revealed the outer beauty to me. I noticed her perfect and infectious smile, kind eyes, fun hair, lovely feet even! So I've made snap judgements of physical appearances, but I've never let looks come in the way of knowing someone. 

With all that in mind, I realized that the people for whom I want to look beautiful are those I love and who love me. And those who love me will find me some version of beautiful no matter what. Therefore, I do try to be the best version of myself when I start my day, but I choose not to dwell on it.

Here's my point:

Everyone is loved, of this I am certain. God makes it clear that He loves us all, and besides Him, there are one's friends, family, co-workers, barista, postman, therapist, and/or cats. So since everyone is loved, everyone is beautiful. I wish there was a non-cheesy way to say it, but there you have it.

Feel beautiful today.

And if we see each other soon, please try not to look directly at my fauxstache.

happy birthday, zoe!!!

Dearest Zoface,

For your birthday, I thought I'd make a complete fool of myself for your amusement.

Enjoy?

Love,
Lahve,
Lurve,
Emily

an admission of complete wussiness.

An earthquake woke me up last night, and there was another this morning. They were both in the mid 4 range - the first felt like the dog was vigorously scratching himself on the bed, thus making the whole thing shake; the second just felt like a dizzy spell until I noticed some of our dangling decorations swaying and then it felt like the house was bobbing in the ocean. 

As a born and bred Southern California girl, I'm supposed to play it cool. I'm supposed to love these things and equate them with roller coasters. I'm supposed to laugh at and openly mock out-of-towners who are bewildered when the ground tremors. And I play the part most of the time. When we had an earthquake in Virginia I truly did find it hilarious when, immediately after it happened, newscasters were seeking out Californians to verify if that was, indeed, one of those "earthquakes" of lore. 

Virginia 2011 Earthquake: We Will Rebuild
Photo borrowed from here.

But the truth is this: I am terrified of earthquakes. They fill me with dread and too much adrenaline. My overactive imagination sees a gaping chasm opening up in my own house, swallowing my family. Then, when I calm down a bit I imagine more realistically that our house will completely collapse and become rubble. Optimistically, I envision all of us cowering under the one doorjamb that remains standing. After the quake last night, I remained awake for some time thinking about the logistics of losing all material possessions when one has a baby. We'd need a bottle, plenty of milk, diapers. I tossed and turned and briefly considered researching disaster relief organizations just to confirm that someone could hook us up in a pinch. I tried counting sheep to get back to sleep, but the louts kept jumping at me instead of peacefully gliding over a low fence in a distant lea. Even my subconscious was in shambles from a little rumble.

I leave you with a sweet little anecdote from my childhood. It was 4:30 in the morning on January 17, 1994 (thanks, wikipedia!). Skeeter - my dog who slept with me each night and looked remarkably like Splinter - started barking and hopping around the bed. Then an earthquake struck, and my waterbed (yeah!) sloshed and swished and my door rattled. A few seconds later, my mom came into my room to make sure I was okay and to comfort me. My dad, assigned to check on my sister, instead sprinted out of their room in his skivvies, expressing deep concern for...his guitar. And he has never lived it down. 

Don't worry, both the guitar and my sister were totally fine.

I'd love to know what turns you into a wuss. Or your favorite natural disaster. Or about your parent trying to save an inanimate object.

Mommy-Wins

Dear Friend,

Being a mom is a tough job. We flounder so often. Everyone disagrees strongly about every move you make. It can feel so hard to know how to walk forward one day after another. 

Rarely, our months of blood, sweat, and tears pay off when our child takes that first step, or utters the first word. But maybe your friend's child of the same age isn’t walking or talking. So as elated as you may be, and as long as you've waited for a moment to be elated about, you might keep it in to yourself. It can feel like we are only allowed to complain or criticize around each other.

But we need to celebrate. Never before has so much energy been poured into results like, "now she only holds on with ONE hand while she takes steps, independent walking feels right around the corner!" or "he took a nap today!" It can just be risky to utter these accomplishments out loud, for fear of creating jealousy.

I had been struggling for months around a certain parenting desire I had. I looked all around at how other moms were handling the same dilemma, and the conflict did not seem to be ending in a way I was hoping for in our own family. I felt so discouraged, like a bad conclusion was inevitable for this trial.

But you took a risk. You told me that you had found a good end to the trial. It required, what seemed to me to be unimaginable patience and resolve. But somehow you'd done it. 

Honestly, my first reaction to your success was deeper discouragement. Almost a rock bottom. I thought I could never have what you'd found. I realized how deep and how real my hopelessness truly was. 

But somewhere, deep below the surface, deep below the fear of failure, a little tiny spark ignited a new hope. Without my realizing it, that spark grew into a tiny flicker and gradually a flame that kicked me into a new gear. From there came a fresh wave of patience and resolve. And before I knew it, months had passed and I had endured. Now I am finding that same good end. 

I love my happy ending. And as it has snuck up on me, I'm shocked to hold it in my hands. I feel a burst of gratitude that I get to grasp this thing that seemed so unattainable, this realization I did not believe I had the character strength to achieve. 

I am at this point because you let me witness your success. You gave me permission to strive for something better.

I know it is tricky to have successes as a mom, but I hope you'll never hold back your accomplishments, or your child's amazing skills. I hope you'll feel free to brag to me. Your mommy-wins are such a blessing in life. 

Thank you.

Love,

Zoe

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same." 

~Marianne Williamson

and then my life flashed before my eyes.

Last week, my mom and I were pondering what our lives flashing before our eyes would look like. What scenes would appear, what moments would be plucked from our memories. I immediately began listing the happy stuff. I think I'd see:

• Jeff smiling and weeping profusely at the end of the aisle on our wedding day.
• A group of about eight people crowded around a long table in the camp dining hall at midnight, playing a vicious game of Rat Slap.
• Running around with Tabitha in a parking lot in the pouring rain during a hurricane.

• Slow dancing with Jeff next to a waterfall by Disneyland and sharing our first kiss.
• Reading High Fidelity aloud to Zoe and replacing the f-bombs with the word monkey our sophomore year of college.
• Hanging out at Denny's with my sister and our friends from camp and realizing that my sister and I were becoming - gasp - friends.
• Slamming down one perfect kill in volleyball my junior year of high school.
• Singing and dancing with a group of women in Tanzania.

• Mikkele randomly bringing over a cake, insisting that Jeff serve it, then crying laughing as we realized she'd baked in the clock.
• Gazing into Eiley's eyes the minute she was born, while trying not to look at all her gooey yuckiness.
• My parents surprising my sister and I with a night at the Disneyland Hotel when we were very young.
• Eating chicken nuggets and swimming all day when my Grandma would housesit for her friends each summer.
• Watching Derek Fisher sink a game winning 3 pointer with .4 seconds on the clock. I realize this didn't happen to me, but the amount of joy I felt watching that at Lamppost Pizza amongst a bunch of sports bar dudes was immense.
• Dancing the night away with Jeff at his senior year theatre banquet, aware that we were lanky and silly and not caring a whit.

• Tiffany and I playing with a cheap little toy after kid's church one evening and finding it hilarious to yell at it. 
• Making Eiley belly laugh.
• Hearing the distinctive thunk of an arrow hitting the target on the archery range at camp.
• Reverse trick-or-treating with Chad, Mikkele, and Jenna. Specifically, shouting "HALLOWEEN HAPPINESS!" in a terrible old lady voice. 

• My eighth grade Algebra teacher telling me to pack up my bag and go to the office because my parents were there to take me to Disneyland and the subsequent writhing jealousy that emanated from my classmates.
• And, of course, this:

My mom mentioned that it probably wouldn't all be happy memories flooding into one's brain. I agree, but I hope we're wrong.

What would you see?

Movie Review Monday: Romantics Anonymous

image taken from here

Romantics Anonymous is another great little French romantic comedy. I recently reviewed I Do, another French romantic comedy, and played around with some ideas of potential actors to play the American remake. Romantics Anonymous really doesn't need an American remake, and maybe I Do doesn't either actually. But if they did go ahead and remake it here anyways, Steve Carrell would HAVE to star in Romantics Anonymous. It is right in his wheel house. Slightly older, totally awkward guy, seeking true meaningful romance.  

I've mentioned several times here that I have a special weakness for movies about cooking, but this one gets a double win because not only is it about a chef, but also chocolate truffles. Add in the sweet little romance it illustrates, and what more could a girl want? Ok, maybe I wouldn't have minded having actual truffles to snack on while I watched, instead of just drooling on myself. But just desiring them was pleasurable enough.

image taken from here

I felt like the film did a great job really taking its time with the uncomfortable moment to accentuate both pain and comedy in this budding romance. I love how a woman who is entirely to shy to sell chocolates to customers can go on and on like an impassioned politician when defending the chocolates to the people who make them. The male lead has an issue with sweating through shirts when he's nervous, and they play that up through the whole film just hilariously. 

image taken from here

Romantic comedies stick so closely to formulas. One trend this one broke, perhaps on account of its being French, I'm not film savvy enough to know such things, was that the female lead didn't have to have a best friend side kick to talk to and thereby let us know whatever she was feeling. I was recently reading that men share intimate emotional feelings more comfortably in one on one interactions, and while women will do that too, they are also more likely to seek out a whole group of people for emotional support. I felt like this film highlighted that trend by showing us the guy's feelings while he spoke to his therapist, and the woman's emotions as she debriefed to her support group. Though, someone who is more familiar with French mental health culture, please tell me what is up with having an alcoholics anonymous-esque group, confessing about being "emotional." Are emotions considered mentally unhealthy in France? I'm guessing not, but that sure made me curious. 


Two claws up from me! A totally enjoyable treat!