Beasts of the Southern Wild

And I thought Buffy was a hero.

I used to see movies at the cinema all the time.  Since becoming a mother, I see a movie at a cinema once a year, on a good year.  Maybe.  The last movie I saw was “Black Swan” so it was actually a year and a half ago.  I’m not kidding.  The year before that, it was “Fantastic Mr. Fox.”

Tonight I saw “Beasts of the Southern Wild.”  My neighbor, who owns the Little Art Theatre, had said it was a film like nothing else.  Another friend, the writer Laraine Herring, told me I should see it because it features a child narrator (played by then five-year old Quvenzhané Wallis) in a magical, mythic world.

I’m not going to say much about the film.  Watching this film during yet another deluge on Louisiana was wrenching.  But considering how often I see a movie at the cinema, I’m glad it was this one.

It’s playing again tomorrow night at the Little Art Theatre.

(And when did we stop clapping after a movie?  Was it when we began to retreat into our VHS/DVD/internet bubbles for home viewing?  Every year or so, you will hear me clapping in a public cinema.  Feel free to join me.)