Faded Boxers

I was forced to watch Million Dollar Baby for the second time yesterday at the Gateway Mall (or “Getaway” according to some jologs overheard by Muff) because my parents haven’t seen it yet.

One thing I learned from the whole experience is that you should never watch a movie at Gateway Mall if you only plan on catching some proverbial Zs, which I was. The seats are so hard, and just don’t allow a lot of wiggle room so no amount of fidgeting will produce a position conducive for actually acquiring said Zs.

That’s not to say that Million Dollar Baby is a bad movie because it’s not. Though I do not think that it deserved The Best Picture Award, I knew where the Academy was coming from when they made their decision.

I mean, who can resist a story about a white trash, flat footed waitress aspiring to be a champ? Cast Hilary Swank with her toothy smile in the lead along with two bickering old men in the form of Clint Eastwood, and Morgan Freeman and you got yourself a winner. The only thing missing is a story that pits the underdog with all kinds of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, win a few moral victories along the way, and still come out smiling in the end—oh we got that one too? Call the dress designers, we’re ready for the Oscars!

Million Dollar Baby was a good ride. But it’s not a ride that I’d be willing to take more than once in the span of three days. The film’s self importance, and Oscar-friendly formula just doesn’t sit well with me. Give me an unpretentious, yet multi-layered movie like Sideways anyday.