It was my birthday yesterday. My wife and I decided to keep things mellow. This was in part because I don’t much like birthdays anymore and in part because my sisters got me an HDTV DirectTivo, so whatever small incentive I had to ever leave the house disappeared.
We decided to grab some lunch and see a movie. We saw Kinsey. Later that night, we watched Boogie Nights on DVD. It was only this morning, upon reflection, that I realized it wouldn’t take a Freudian analyst to pick up on a certain theme running through those movies. And looking back even further, I realized that I almost always spend my birthday watching movies and they are almost always somehow connected to that same theme.
The peak was about a decade ago when, during the same birthday visit to the video store, I rented Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and a movie called Masseuse III. That combination (in addition to getting me placed on my video store’s unofficial “watch list”) helps to explain the rather disturbing pavlovian response I have every time I hear the Oompa Loompa song.
What troubles me the most is that in under a decade, I’ve gone from Masseuse III (the best of a trilogy that I think rivals Peter Jackson’s recent effort) to something as tame as a documdrama about Alfred Kinsey. What’s in store for my next birthday. A friggin’ filmstrip on cell meiosis?