“I Know Your Mustache.”

I read my first Agatha Christie novel when I was eleven. By now I’ve read dozens, and while I always enjoy them, most have long since blended in my head, like half-forgotten Friends episodes or various bad Christmases. Murder on the Orient Express, however, is one of those mysteries that you never forget the solution to.

That being said, my interest in Kenneth Branagh’s take on the classic novel was mild. Perhaps Imagine Dragons wasn’t quite filling me with confidence, I don’t know. Still, Mekaela and I are suckers for murder mysteries (she’s an even bigger Christie fan than I am), so it’s probably no surprise that we decided to check out the adaptation last week, despite some reservations.

And it’s . . . okay? It’s serviceable. But it could totally be better.

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“Now, That’s A Proper Introduction.”

I’ve been excited about Arrival for months and had hoped to see the movie shortly after it premiered, but plans, being plans, naturally fell through. So Mekaela and I decided to watch it on Thanksgiving instead because, you know. First contact, and all that jazz.

I liked Arrival–it’s well-crafted and interesting–but, being the disappointment to the SF/F community that I so often am, I can’t quite say that I loved it like everyone else seems to.

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“Pocahontas, That Tree Is Talking To Me.”

ETA: Trying to get back to business as usual, at least for the moment, though fair warning: there may be more political talk in the future. There may also not be; I don’t have any specific plans right now. But just so you know, the majority of this review, save some minor edits, was written before nearly half of America decided to vote for an unrepentant and unqualified bigot, so. Nothing here past this paragraph is election and/or protest related.

Okay. For a variety of reasons, my Disney Princess Movie Challenge had to be put on hold for several months, which leaves me with just under two months now to watch six movies and review them. This does not sound difficult until you understand that I am not a fast writer, and anytime I spend here writing for fun is, very unfortunately, time I’m not spending writing for money, and look people, I like money. I’m not even going to lie about that. Even if my rent hadn’t just doubled, which is sort of a consideration, I also like it when I have the opportunity to spend cash for things; I have, like, zero qualms about my materialism.

Regardless, I really would like to finish this particular challenge after failing so abysmally last year on Best Picture Winners, so I’m going to give it a shot. When we last left off, Mekaela and I had just watched Aladdin for the first time in about 20 years. Now?

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Now I watch Pocahontas for the very first time. God help me.

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“We Need More Teeth.”

When Jurassic World came out last year, I was not particularly interested. I really like Jurassic Park, despite the fact that it totally scared me when I was a kid, as I had not quite yet become the bloodthirsty woman you see before you today–and because, embarrassingly enough, I felt bad for the blood-sucking lawyer. I know. Really, I know, but I’ve held a long-standing belief that nobody, not even greedy, cowardly bastards, should be killed in the bathroom. That’s a safe space, goddamn it.

Regardless. I had a fairly meh reaction to The Lost World and found little to enjoy in Jurassic Park III. (And can I just say, this franchise needs some serious work when it comes to titling? Jurassic Park, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Jurassic Park III, and Jurassic World? How does that make sense? Who is responsible for this?) So, I couldn’t seem to work up much interest in a franchise that hasn’t been much good since 1993, even if Star-Lord and Ivy Walker were in it.

But finally, finally I got around to watching the movie after all, partially because Mekaela wanted to see it, and partially because I really wanted to know where I fell on the High Heels Controversy of 2015.

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I’ll discuss the high heels further below, but as far as the movie itself goes . . . yeah, ultimately, I’m glad I didn’t waste the money to watch this one in theater.

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“Shit Happens? That’s It? That’s What I Get? Fucking Wisdom?”

So, I’m a quitter. If I decide I don’t want to do something anymore, or it just isn’t worth my time, I’m done. I’m not terribly ashamed of this almost-certain character flaw, but it does sometimes come with devastating consequences, like when I decide to give up on my Best Picture Challenge and have to watch and review a terrible movie of your choosing as a result of my failure. And God help me, I finally watched it.

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Let’s celebrate the Eve of All Hallow’s Eve by talking about Randy Meeks’s favorite scary movie, Showgirls.

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“There Are No Strings On Me.”

It’s 10:00 p.m. Thursday night. I’m sitting in an aisle seat at the Roxy Theater and the Marvel credits have just started to play. My little hands are clasped loosely together. I can actually feel the childish hope written all over my face.

Ignore Spider-Man. Spider-Man is a lie.

Overall, Avengers: Age of Ultron is fast-paced, funny, and pretty enjoyable, especially for a movie that’s 2 1/2 hours long. Despite that, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed with the finished product.

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