We know there are other more obvious choices. These are suck-tastic choices specific to the tastes of Lucy and Jane. Please share yours so we can all share the pain.
Lucy:
Being John Malkovich: Proof positive that I am not a cool kid: I did not get this movie. I wanted to like it, because John Malkovich is a badass. I'll gladly watch him in Dangerous Liaisons, or even In the Line of Fire. BJM just felt weird for the sake of being weird.
American Beauty This was supposed to be a searing look at an American family, but everyone in this movie was a total cliche: the high-strung housewife who just needed a good lay, the pouty teenage daughter, the closeted Army dude. Did this movie win awards? Hissss
P.S. I Love You A friend chose this out of the Red Box while on vacation last year. I love this girl, but we're not the kind of friends that I could have yelled out, "Oh my God, this movie BLOWS!" like 25 minutes in, which is what I wanted to do.
Legends of the Fall Too long. Boring. Brad Pitt's hair was stringy. Too long.
Jane:
Sex in the City: I hated this movie so much that I had completely wiped ever having seen it from my memory until Lucy reminded me. By the time I realized that I should just walk away, the damn thing was nearly over so I held on until the predictable, sappy, vapid ending.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Johnny Depp version): Just because nobody can touch Gene Wilder's softer, gentler Willy Wonka. The modern version was trying too hard to be avant garde. And that one Ooompa Loompa freaked me out, too.
Juno: Nahh... I'm just kidding. I love this movie. It made me wish I was sharp-tongued high school girl with a pregnant friend. Or a kooky step-mother. Witty teen-angst banter is right up my alley.
My Little Pony & Friends (circa 1986): Here's the scene: I'm newly pregnant with my second child and working full-time. After every nausea-filled day, I leave the office with the buttons popping off my blouse and my gut squeezing over the pants that are about a size too small at this point. I pick up my 2-year-old from day care and to "spend time with her" when we get home, I play this movie, which is actually a taped TV show, on the VCR in my bedroom. I sit the child on the bed with me while I doze until my husband gets home. The movie has the voices of Sandy Duncan and Tony Randall and a slightly scary plot line full of trolls, troglodytes and ponies put in dungeons. Dungeons! Trolls! Oversized mushroom village! Sandy Duncan!
Every day, my husband would come home, follow the trail of discarded clothing to find me in an underwear-wearing coma, with his baby girl watching this cinematographic marvel.
A couple of years later, I found this movie shoved in the recesses of my closet. When my daughter began to watch it, I was overcome with nausea all over again. It seems that I had developed a psychosomatic disorder that renders me completely ill at the sight and sound of My Little Pony.
I put the tape in the trash after that final viewing.
Sex in the City: I hated this movie so much that I had completely wiped ever having seen it from my memory until Lucy reminded me. By the time I realized that I should just walk away, the damn thing was nearly over so I held on until the predictable, sappy, vapid ending.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Johnny Depp version): Just because nobody can touch Gene Wilder's softer, gentler Willy Wonka. The modern version was trying too hard to be avant garde. And that one Ooompa Loompa freaked me out, too.
Juno: Nahh... I'm just kidding. I love this movie. It made me wish I was sharp-tongued high school girl with a pregnant friend. Or a kooky step-mother. Witty teen-angst banter is right up my alley.
My Little Pony & Friends (circa 1986): Here's the scene: I'm newly pregnant with my second child and working full-time. After every nausea-filled day, I leave the office with the buttons popping off my blouse and my gut squeezing over the pants that are about a size too small at this point. I pick up my 2-year-old from day care and to "spend time with her" when we get home, I play this movie, which is actually a taped TV show, on the VCR in my bedroom. I sit the child on the bed with me while I doze until my husband gets home. The movie has the voices of Sandy Duncan and Tony Randall and a slightly scary plot line full of trolls, troglodytes and ponies put in dungeons. Dungeons! Trolls! Oversized mushroom village! Sandy Duncan!
Every day, my husband would come home, follow the trail of discarded clothing to find me in an underwear-wearing coma, with his baby girl watching this cinematographic marvel.
A couple of years later, I found this movie shoved in the recesses of my closet. When my daughter began to watch it, I was overcome with nausea all over again. It seems that I had developed a psychosomatic disorder that renders me completely ill at the sight and sound of My Little Pony.

I put the tape in the trash after that final viewing.




