Down at the Goondocks

I just finished watching The Goonies for the eleventy thousandth time. It was one of the first movies I went to all by myself. This was before the days of stadium seating and multi-plexes. Our little town had one theater with two screens. We got movies weeks or months after the rest of the world, but in our insulated reality, we didn't know or care. My best friend and I walked to the theater, which was located on the main street, about five blocks from our houses. I was 11 years old. Do parents even let their 11 year olds walk themselves to school these days, let alone a movie?

The years have dulled my memories of the minutiae of that movie-going experience, but I can say with absolute clarity that I was mesmerized. I saw myself in the Goonies. Always the new kid, I knew what it felt like to be an outsider. I knew what it was to dream of great adventures, far outside of the realm of possibility. I spent countless afternoons gallivanting around my backyard and neighborhood acting out fantastic scenarious.

All of this pales in comparison to the ENORMOUS crush I had on Sean Astin after seeing this movie. I thought he was just about the dreamiest boy a girl could imagine. Little did I know that he would grow up to be a hobbit, but in those pre-pubescent days, he was everything I thought a boy should be. I longed to be the girl that pulled him into a corner of that cave and kissed him. Such simple, innocent fantasies.

There was little violence, no cursing, and no sex. It was beloved by both girls and boys and adults were entertained, too. Do they even make movies like this anymore? Why does it seem like the only movies that are aimed at both children and adults these days are cartoons? And with a few exceptions, those aren't all that great.

Speaking of bad family movies, I just saw that the top grossing movie this past weekend was Beverly Hills Chihuahua. I think I just threw up a little.