“Amah, let’s go watch Guardians of the Galaxy!” exclaimed my grandson Adrian, excitement all over his handsome face.
Uh-oh, I thought. I was never a fan of intergalactic creatures.
My taste in movies runs along the likes of Forrest Gump. As a storybook author, I stick to real-life fiction. And the closest I got to liking a flying object was Mary Poppins. As a little girl, my first storybooks were Cinderella and Goldilocks, and my first chapter book was The Little Prince (this is intergalactic, too, but in a quiet, simple way and there are no guns nor violence). I fancied Superman, as well, but I only had to reckon with one additional planet, Krypton.
On the other hand, I promised myself that for this short US R&R, I’d use new eyes and be joyful always.
“Let’s!” I said to Adrian, turning on my best smile.
To the Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 we went, but not before I researched on the movie. The idea, the plot, the characters—they were all gobbledygook to me; I had to unscramble my brain to take them all in. I had to admit, once again, I do belong to a Jurassic generation.
As we settled in our comfortable movie seats, I was afraid my ancient body would take an involuntary shut-eye.
But the movie was all it was touted to be—full of digital gongs, bells, and cymbals in larger-than-life-extra-long shots, with loud, intrusive sound effects to match. There were heartwarming, poignant scenes, too, that zoomed in on the characters. It had everything—the whole kit and caboodle (that phrase is Jurassic, too).
So did I fall asleep? No.
Did I like it? No.
I loved it. So much that I wondered aloud whether Vol. 1 was just as good.
Before I knew it, son #2 had a DVD of Vol. 1 and we all watched it in the comfort of the family room. Yes, both volumes are enchanting, each with a charm of its own.
My shrieks of delight matched Adrian’s. And I mused, I am not as Jurassic as I thought.