Beasts of the Southern Wild: Now available in Denmark

Have I talked about Denmark yet?

No?

Unbelievable. I talk about Denmark constantly. And if a week passes with no mention of it, I'll make sure to bring it up in conversation again. In case anyone forgot.

Several years ago, it was reported that the Danish are the happiest people on Earth. Why? Well, for lots of reasons, most of which I'm too lazy to elaborate upon. Using my recipe for Oversimplified Journalistic Reduction Sauce, I am able to boil it down to these three points:

1. They are happy being content rather than searching for everlasting mania (the American definition of happiness).
2. They keep their expectations low.
3. No third point. See. Despite the fact that I said there would be three points, you shouldn't have expected that many. Consider this Danish Lesson #1.

Right.

So, yeah. Beasts of the Southern Wild...

Had high expectations. Grand Jury Prize from Sundance Film Festival. Several honors from Cannes. Even the movie industry's equivalent to the Miss America tiara, the highly coveted Golden Space Needle Award from the Seattle International Film Festival.

I saw the trailers. It was like Where the Wild Things Are meets Mardi Gras meets magical realism meets the inspirational and accessible philosophy of Paulo Coelho.

And I went to see it. And it was all of these things. And I need to say right now that even though everyone is praising Quvenzhané Wallis' performance, I really think that Dwight Henry stole the show. You don't know who Dwight Henry is? That's because, according to IMDb, he "owns and runs the 'Buttermilk Drop Bakery and Cafe' in the Seventh Ward, New Orleans." Baker. Not actor. Baker.

Anyway, after the movie my friend and I ate crepes and pretended to be smart by conversing about the film's archetypal thematic and structural elements, including but not limited to The Great Flood, the Bildungsroman, balance of man with nature, confronting one's fears, unification with the feminine deity (my friend's idea, not mine!) and others...

But then the discussion took a turn when we started to wonder, why the hell, precisely, does the strip club need to be named Elysian Fields and why, really, does that guy need to save all of his chicken sandwich wrappers to remember the time he ate each one? Because I want to believe in that. I want to believe that it's possible to remember each precious moment of one's life by hoarding fast food packaging, but I struggle.

Hmm, struggle, that's another theme...

In summary... if you're going to go see this movie, keep your expectations low. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised that way.


You dropped the Golden Space Needle Award.
P.S. Hell no, I ain't going after it. In that water? You crazy.