I just got off the phone with our glorious mother, Jeanne. “Last night I watched the most wonderful movie!” she said. “Bridget Jones.”
“Oh, yeah, Mah, that’s a good one,” I agreed. “Don’t you love Colin Firth in that reindeer sweater?”
“What I loved,” Jeanne began……And then proceeded to describe in very vivid detail a scene from the much-raspberried sequel to Bridget Jones’ Diary. You know, the one that no one saw and even the fools at NY 1 panned? Yup, that’s our Jeanne.
I am sorry to report that this is not the first time she has told me that she prefers the sequel-that-bombed to the original. To wit, Sex and the City 2. “Mah! I cried. “That movie got horrible reviews! Even Sarah Jessica Parker didn’t like it!” (Okay, I was exaggerating. I was trying to make a point).
“You don’t believe everything you read, do you?” she scoffed. “I love those girls! Especially Samantha!”
She marches to her own drum, that’s for sure. It’s the only explanation for her near-violent admiration for The Godfather Part III – Sophia Coppola in particular. Sophia Coppola, who everyone agreed practically ruined the movie, forcing her permanently behind the camera. Everyone agreed, it seems, except for one little lady in Hackensack who thought Sophia “made the movie.” Jeanne should know. She’s watched it at least 37 times. I know this because she calls me after each viewing to tell me it was by far the best Godfather. Even Bob swam up from the depths of Parkinson’s the last time this happened to disagree with her assessment. “hhsuoiarsmbflrbf,” I heard him say in the background.
“Bob!” she barked, but into the phone so it nearly rendered me deaf. “You’re wrong!” Then she hopped off the phone. Legally Blonde 2 was about to start.