I Still Want a Hula Hoop

When I lived in Chicago I worked at a coffee shop on the famous Magnificent Mile. Apparently if you line a street with countless shops and busloads of tourists from Ohio it’s magnificent. Anyway, this wasn’t any old coffeeshop, it was the one that is bent on world domination. Let’s just call it Cartrucks. On my fourth day at Cartrucks, I was scheduled at 5:45 AM. Let me tell you, there’s nothing cooler than stepping outside at 4:30 in the morning to walk to the train in the middle of a Chicago December. Wearing my Hoth gear, I made it to my train stop and tried desperately to convince myself that the $7.50/hr they were paying me made it all worthwhile. Here is a quick side note for those of you who live in places filled with love and goodness. 4:30 AM is not a great time to be out and about in certain areas of Chicago. It’s a part of the day when you’ll most likely be greeted by an eclectic mix of guys telling you they could destroy you and other guys who simply want your money. Having no money to give, I watched appreciatively as a talented man on the platform performed a monologue about the rules and regulations of his home planet, “Elsewhere.” As he bowed to me and an imaginary crowd, my train arrived.

I braved the wind while walking down the Mag Mile (that’s what the cool kids call it), and I couldn’t help but turn my thoughts to malicious acts of Fight Club-style anti-consumerism. Now, I love buying stuff and I hate Fight Club, but your daughter does not need a doll that looks and dresses just like her, and I’m pretty sure Niketown could have limited its shoe collection to three or four floors instead of going for the full six. Staring down the empty street with its Christmas lights and decorations, I began to dread the moment when it would fill with thousands and thousands of people all looking wide-eyed and confused as they uttered phrases like, “Oh yeaaah? The tax is that high in the city? Because back home it’s just 5%.” Shaking the image, I entered my place of business. As I attempted to defrost, the assistant manager who was a good five or six years younger than me approached. He took a deep breath like Kilmer does in Top Gun before he talks about the tragic death of Goose and said, “Yeah, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but you’re late.” He tapped his digital watch and I saw that it was 5:47 AM. I was two minutes late. I braved wind, ice, snow, and that alien guy from my neighborhood, but I guess that wasn’t enough for Johnny No-cream-peppermint-soy-latte. I said I was sorry, clocked in, and then went to the back to put my apron on. I heard the Kilmer deep breath again and turned to see the assistant manager. “Yeah, at Cartrucks we don’t clock in until we put our aprons on.” I took a beat, bit my tongue, untied my apron, handed it to the assistant manager, said “Thanks for the opportunity,” and walked back out into the cold. As my eyes froze and I realized I was unemployed again, I dreamed of a day when my biggest problem would be sitting through a bad Christmas movie about a guy who is miserable in Chicago while I lounged on the couch on a Texas December day with temperatures in the mid-60s. That dream finally came true yesterday.

Surviving Christmas
Surviving Christmas stars Ben Affleck as a millionaire Chicago ad-wizard who lives a life of excess and loneliness. After some requisite shots of the “L” train, we get to the staple of most modern Christmas movies; the forced plot that has seemingly dramatic undertones but is really just a poor set-up for some wacky physical comedy and spiritual redemption. The plot in this movie has Affleck returning to his childhood home. In order to avoid spending Christmas alone and perhaps to impress his vapid girlfriend, Ben offers the family who is living there $250,000 to pose as his family over Christmas. The parents, James Gandolfini and Catherine O’Hara accept, and Ben immediately reverts into some sort of manchild, talking in a bizarre Tobey Maguire-esque crackly voice and calling everybody mommy and daddy. The sheer creepiness of the plot is ignored, and eventually Christina Applegate, the daughter of the house, returns home for the holidays. Me thinks I smell a romantic subplot devoid of romance. From here, things strive for the Capra as we find out that Gandolfini and O’Hara are going to separate, and Affleck and Applegate fall in love, kiss, have a fight, deal with the arrival of Ben’s girlfriend, and stop speaking. Luckily, the previously selfish and somewhat delusional Affleck knows exactly what must be done for things to work out. At a community theatre production of A Christmas Carol, he helps O’Hara and Gandolfini rekindle their love, hooks his “adoptive” brother up with an attractive girl, and smoothes things over with Applegate, thus becoming a part of the family he paid to hang out with him just as the horrible, horrible Chicago snow starts to fall.

What a strange little career Academy Award winner Ben Affleck has had. It seemed like he kind of cared for a while, but I guess once you star in a video canoodling J. Lo’s tanned ass, you’ll do just about anything. I have to admit I laughed at parts of this movie. I hate myself for doing it, but it’s true. O’Hara is funny, Gandolfini does the work, and Applegate is still cute. However, that doesn’t make up for the pacing, dialogue, or story. I give it 2-Griecos (see ratings). Watch a Christmas movie with Chase or Murray and you’ll be much happier. Or check out that one where Nick Cage realizes his life would have been better if he had given up the million-dollar job and stayed with Tea Leoni. That one totally makes me cry.

Ratings

1-Grieco: There’s probably a re-run of Full House on. Watch that instead.

2-Griecos: Washed-up stars, watered-down action, and my friends are at work. What the hell.

3-Griecos: Bad religious symbolism abounds and the gunplay is damn near balletic. My Friday night is looking up.

4-Griecos: If Looks Could Kill. All I’m sayin’.
**If ever I should come across a film that rates 0-Griecos, may God have mercy on your soul.