Went to see “Mama” last night with Will, and our friends Jen and Scott. “Mama” is a horror movie and going into it, I knew really nothing at all about it, other than it was supposed to be good and it was supposed to be scary.
It was both. It starts off being creepy, gives you a good scare, and then steadily works its way from creepy (scare!) to creepier (scare, scare!) to creepiest ever (all out effing SCARY!!). Without gore or nudity or any of the other horror tropes we’ve come to expect. It does the scary with good special effects, good acting, and a great story. I was somewhat unsatisfied with the ending, the rest of the movie was good enough that even that dissatisfaction pales in comparison.
One of the first horror movies I saw in the theater with Will was the movie “Scream”. We saw it with his best friend, Ray, and as the title suggests, I did, in fact, scream aloud in the theater a couple of times. It is involuntary, and as Jen and I were comparing notes about how much we both screamed during “Mama” last night, it is not really a good survival instinct. I mean, seriously, there is a creepy bad guy, I know what I will do! I will scream really loudly so the creepy bad guy knows exactly where I am and can kill me faster. Not evolutionarily brilliant. Being totally quiet and slinking away from the bad guy while finding weapons is more useful.
When I watch horror movies with Will, which is less and less often as I get older because sometimes it is labeled “horror” and they mean “torture porn” – when did torture porn replace scary movies? Why is that crap considered entertaining? Sick and gross isn’t scary, it is sick and gross – I have a tendency to stay anywhere from creeped out to all out scared for a while. I have been known to have to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and I will wake Will up and make him go with me, so he can keep a look out for monsters. Believe it or not, the man actually thinks it is a worthy trade off to get me to watch horror with him more often than not.
After one of the creepier parts of “Mama” passed and I stopped freaking out for a minute, Will leans over and whispers, “Tomorrow, when you finally sleep again, I think we should cuddle,” which made me laugh. He knows that the chances of me sleeping well after a horror movie are pretty much nil. I spend most of my time lying in bed wondering if the shadows are moving and if I am hearing whispers. What is great is having two cats who love to jump on you while you sleep, because after a horror movie, I tend to think the monsters have gotten me and forget that cats are just tiny, furry monsters that purr and have evil senses of humor.
Will delights in watching me react to things like horror movies. I do not know why, but it makes him happy so who am I to question it?
We are getting a new bed tomorrow. I have had a fear of The Thing Under The Bed for years now, since I was a little child. Once I moved out of my parents house I eliminated this problem by eliminating the under the bed. The bed goes on the floor, box springs, then bed, no under. No frame for anything to BE under. The classic tale from childhood is my father one night traumatized me. My dad, when he tucked us in at night, would literally tuck the covers completely around our bodies. He would tuck us tight enough we could not move. It was funny, like a little game.
One night, after tucking me in this way, he asked why I still needed to have the closet light on as a night light. I told him about The Thing Under the Bed, and as he was telling me that there was no such monster, all of a sudden, The Thing Under the Bed grabbed my father and started pulling him under the bed. I couldn’t move because my dad had cocooned me in the blankets, but I was instantly screaming, crying, and struggling to get free. It wasn’t until my mom came in and saw my dad lying on the floor laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes that I realized that he was not being eaten he was messing with me. My mom sat on the bed and hugged me as I cried, and said, “Oh, Bob, really. You are paying for the therapy bills.”
I am just glad I didn’t tell him about The Thing In The Closet.
Will loves this story and it makes him laugh every time. Honestly, I have yet to tell this story to anyone male who does not find it funny. Most women first say “Oh my God!” and THEN laugh, but men immediately think my dad was a comedic genius.
I admit, this is a funny story of traumatizing an 8 year old girl. It is funny and hilarious, but when I lived on my own, at age 19, even though I knew better than to think that there was a Thing Under the Bed, I figured that not having an under the bed would make VERY certain that there wasn’t one. I mean, really, why risk it just to have a place for cats to hide and dust bunnies to collect?
Lately, I’ve been thinking that having a nice bed frame would be a boon. We could put some rubbermaid containers under the bed, have a little extra storage space. Our house’s main fault is a lack of closets, so I thought this might be good for shoes, or other things one would normally keep in a closet. I figured that at the age of 37 (38 in two weeks!) I could deal with the reality that monsters do not live under beds.
Then we went to see “Mama” and I have to say, I’ve been right all along. Having an under the bed is just playing fast and loose with your safety, sanity, and life. Why give monsters places to hide?
I said to Will, “No bed frame. Box springs on the floor.”
He said, “Ok.”
I take his easy capitulation on this to mean he loves me and understands me, although it is quite possible that he doesn’t want me to start waking him up every time I got to the bathroom, and if there is an under the bed, that would totally be his fate.