As a child, I read and enjoyed “The Chronicles of Narnia” but as an adult, I struggled with them a little. My main problem was how the final book in the series resorted to that classic “And then I woke up and it was all a dream” ending favoured by primary school students around the globe. But instead of a dream, it turns out all the characters can stay in Narnia forever because they all died in a horrific train accident at the start of the book and everyone’s all “That’s great!” and “Yayyyyyy!!!!” when they hear the news even though their mortal bodies are probably still trapped under all that twisted metal of the train wreck.
It’s exactly the same problem I had with that romantic love scene at the end of “Ghost” between Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore where all I could think was “Demi’s gettin’ it awnnnnn with Whoopi Goldberg”. Okay, so maybe not exactly the same but, you know, whatever.
Anyway, my husband and I ended up watching “The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe” on DVD the other night and we both felt decidedly non-plussed at the end. My husband turned to me and said: “That was shit! And I usually really like films that feature beavers.”
“Yeah. All those woods and not a single woodsman…” I lamented (on his behalf). For someone who never watches porn, I am quite proud of how much porn industry slang I know.
“ANYWAY,” I continued, trying to raise the tone a little. “As a general rule, films with talking animals are the pits. I challenge you to think of one single live action film featuring a talking animal that you’ve actually liked.”
“Er, Racing Stripes?” he said, no doubt thinking back to those happy happy days where we watched that film again and again (and again) with Toddler Justice.
“Ughhhh! That film sucked!” I replied. “Dustin Hoffman literally phoned in that performance. No, really. I think he was reviewing the script on the toilet and his agent rang and said ‘Dustin, baby, just read me the lines now’ and when he’d finished, someone somewhere said ‘It’s a wrap!’ and the film was premiered the very next night. And as for Whoopi Goldberg, it was just as well she was a talking goat because I generally can’t look at her without thinking of her sucking face with Demi Moore.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” my husband asked, stifling a yawn.
“Talking animals are just bad,” I concluded, at once answering and ignoring his question, which happens to be my special superpower. “Not Michael Jackson ‘Bad’ but bad like everything Michael Jackson did after ‘Bad’. Especially that video for ‘You Are Not Alone‘ where he was frolicking semi-naked with his s0-called wife in a temple. A temple! I mean, not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but just thinking about that video makes a bit of Demi-on-Whoopi action seem positively erotic in comparison, don’t you think?”
But I got no response. When I turned to my husband, I found him completely and utterly asleep. And I can bet that when he woke up, he really did wish that our conversation had been all a dream. But it wasn’t. This really is his life and I really am his wife.
“That’s great!” and “Yayyyyyyy!!!!” (etc).