I went out and saw four movies in the theater in 2023: Barbie; Asteroid City; Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning, Part One; and the re-release of Old Boy.
Controversially, perhaps, I liked Mission Impossible the best, the plot was whatever but all the big dumb action sequences were fantastic. Plus, after spending almost 23 years of my adult life married to a man who refused to look at Tom Cruise’s big dumb action face, I can now watch MI movies without worrying about their Scientological impact on my relationship.
Wes Anderson being in full diorama mode — or maybe terrarium mode is more accurate, because sometimes it feels like his movies are sealed under glass — made Asteroid City my not-favorite. I think his best and most moving film is Darjeeling Limited, which is nobody’s favorite Wes Anderson film, so that’s me haunting the attic of the candy-colored, symmetrical doll house that is his fandom.
I have told this story before but my late-60s Barbie had brown hair and one of her legs wouldn’t stay attached, and she had a pull string at the back of her neck so she could say things like, “Would you like to go shopping?” and “I have a date tonight.” I used to make her sneeze by rearing her whole body back and then yelling ACHOO! and shoving her head into a jar of creamy Jif. I’d pull her out and her face would be covered in peanut butter snot and I would laugh and laugh and then do it again as soon as the high wore off. Despite America Ferrara’s well-regarded monologue, which was twice as long and half as pointed as Michelle Wolf’s “Have It All” speech, I liked the Barbiemovie slightly less than playing with my sinus infection Barbie.
In Old Boy, the brutality didn’t really bother me as much as the ridiculous, sex-obsessed revenge arc that hinged on (spoiler alert) hypnotizing the main characters into committing incest with each other?!? But other than that there was a lot to like.
Worst Way to End the Year
By getting Covid, of course! Fuck me, it sucked, I couldn’t go out for my birthday and then I got rebound Covid which made me feel like I had a cold for an extra ten days. I sent a message to my doctor summing all this up, thinking it ought to be on my medical record, and a nurse called me back and told me that if I took a hot bath with Epsom salts and used some saline nasal wash, I’d be “testing negative in no time.” I happened to have a bottle of saline, and after using it for two days I did indeed test negative. Did I just wash the Covid out of my nose to cheat on the test? Possibly? I still feel tired. Nevertheless, I tested positive for a total of 18 days, which seemed so ridiculous that I self-reported to the Pfizer website that I took all their vaccines and their Paxlovid was totally useless. I fully expect a van to pull up to my house and a Pfizer hazmat team to come take all of my blood and hide my body. I guess after that I will truly be haunting this house, RIP me.
One advantage to being forced to stay at home for so long was that I picked up my knitting again and was able to fix a sweater I’d fucked up years ago, and then start a new one with all the random yarn I bought on sale when my local yarn shop went under, RIP Cardigans on State St. I also had the time to start reading again, I finished Prophet Song, which won the 2023 Booker Prize and was truly mesmerizing, and am now reading I Have Some Questions for You — I normally like campus novels (Prep, Secret History, Lucky Jim, Nice Work) but somehow this is eluding that sweet, juicy spot those others hit. I know how hard it is to write a novel, and would never trash anyone who’s managed to finish one, get it published, and be nominated for a Pulitzer on top of all that, so this is mostly a matter of missing whatever peculiar magic it takes to satisfy my own grubby needs.
Speaking of grubby needs, normally I don’t like true crime or lurid television, but I turned to Netflix to keep my brain going while I knitted, and that’s how I ended up watching Jeffrey Epstein: Filthy Rich. Man, what a scumbag! He lied his way into becoming a teacher at the Dalton School, then he lied his way onto Wall Street, then he managed a Ponzi scheme and got everyone else to take the fall, then he bilked a billionaire out of $48m. The guy was an extremely rich and powerful psychopath and narcissist, so if before I was like, “Why didn’t those girls just leave?” well, obviously he was a shameless con man who managed to swindle lots of rich, powerful men, so it wasn’t a leap for him to manipulate psychologically fragile girls who literally couldn’t say no to him into all manner of sexual humiliation. I don’t have much sympathy for his procurer, Ghislaine Maxwell, but she was the daughter of another giant narcissist, and after he died and left his family penniless it became clear she’d been groomed since birth to look for someone like Epstein to cling to. The whole thing was despicable and sad, so now it’s back to Great British Baking Show reruns to cleanse and refresh my weary soul.
IN CONCLUSION!
Wear a mask and don’t get sick, but if you do get sick I hope you’re allowed to take all the time you need to recover. If one thing has become blindingly clear, it’s that so many people in this country aren’t allowed this basic freedom. Not to mention, people in war zones get Covid, too, and how the fuck do you get care when you’re a hostage, and where do you go to rest when your home is buried under rubble? The simple privileges I was able to take advantage of — distraction, company, food, medical support, rest — shouldn’t boggle the mind at how difficult they are to come by. If you haven’t yet, please badger your representatives about all the evils we continue to visit upon each other.