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Technicolor Headache

The little man and I both like The Beatles a great deal. Who doesn’t? I recall viewing their films when I was a child. The fuzziest recollections are of “Yellow Submarine“. I mostly remember that I watched it at my grandmother’s. At some point in the late 70’s. On her ancient television (which probably gave off crazy x-ray emissions). So with little to go on, other than a fuzzy feeling that I *think* I had liked it, I set out to obtain it. It’s a little hard to find. I was able to acquire a copy via ebay, naturally. It arrived yesterday. I decided it was worthy of breaking the M-F no TV/no video rule. So we settled in to watch it after dinner. The little man was as hooked as we were repelled (we being me + a certain someone). Words fail me. Maybe it’s akin to the “Moulin Rouge” debacle. I was just far too tired to be watching something so…so very…uh, yeah. But I suspect there’s more to it than that. I tried to find an online review that would put my feelings/reaction into words. I couldn’t agree with most that I skimmed (all glowing and gushing like). I finally found some comments that were closer to the mark. These include:
“Finding something to complain about in this movie is like finding a needle in a really big stack of needles.”
“For 99 of its 100 minutes, I was looking forward to the end credits.”
“The Sound Of Music on drugs”
That about sums it up. And I still feel a bit nauseated.