Saturday, March 30, 2013


Although I picked it to watch because Dan Futterman is in it, the 1992 film with nothing but narcissistic and immature multiply-married/partnered parents --and their shut-down but too-wise and ironically distanced children--is painful to watch. The women are either bimbos, whiners, or bitches. The men overgrown boys. As the centerpiece child says to the camera, My dad is 40, looks like he's 30, thinks like he's 20 and acts like he's 10.

And typically, when the anti-heroine early teen tomboy runs away from all the dysfunctionality, she is sheltered by a big wholesome family, on the Mormon style. Her response? Wise-assed eye-rolling contempt. An apprentice of the adults she is running away from. Harbinger of life as a woman who can be appeased by nothing?

Dan, though a mere pup of 25, had his appeal even then.

I have seen too many movies where the children are more adult than the adults.

It was shot in the Inyo National Forest, over in the eastern Sierras, where B and I have gone in summers, which is nice to see.

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