Ghost Rider Commitment Opportunity

Last weekend, my girlfriend was out of town on business, or pleasure, I forget, so I ran off with her husband –---to see the Ghost Rider movie. (We took our respective kids.) Girlfriend’s Husband and I had been looking forward to this movie since it came out, but Girlfriend wasn’t at all interested in seeing it. And nobody, but nobody, makes Girlfriend do what she isn’t at all interested in doing. Especially if it’s just goin to a movie. From her point of view, life’s just too short.

And she is my best girlfriend, excepting my sister, so it surprised me that we didn’t see eye to eye on this movie. We see eye to eye on nea’bout everything else: politics, religion, literature. . . .For example, when LOTR hit the theatres, our families hit the theatres, too, bought the vidjos and watched them over and over again, analyzing every symbol, deconstructing the grave critiques of literal-minded Tolkien groupies, and, incidentally, lusting after Orlando Bloom’s Legolas. When The Return of the King was on its way to us, we planned a LOTR party, so as to refresh our memories with the first two movies just before hittin the theatre again.

God, we were the blackest LOTR geeks I knew. And we didn’t care.

But Girlfriend was right when, at the beginning of our relationship, she termed me a member of her husband’s “July Babies” club. We were born in the same month, and, as Girlfriend had suspected in the beginning, we had similar tastes in foolishness. Just a sad thing when said foolishness is scrutinized (I mean, if you can bring yourself to believe it, it looks even more foolish under scrutiny), but there it is. For example, I think all of us were waiting through the trailers before one of the LOTRs showed up on the screen when the Transporter 2 trailer showed up. Girlfriend’s Husband leaned across Girlfriend and looked at me. I leaned across Girlfriend and looked at him.*

“You see the first one?” he asked.
“Aw, yeah,” I replied. “Sweeeet fight scenes.”

The commitment to Transporter 2 was established, albeit to separate viewing and the vidjo version. (Life, after all, is too short, and money too important, by the way, to spend on Transporter 2 in the theatre.)

Way, way, way more important than my newish “July Baby” membership is a Thing I have for Nick Cage. He’s not a BABE or even a great actor, but I just love him. I can't explain why. I just do. Loved him nonstop since Raising Arizona. Been watching Raising Arizona, on the regular, in fact, since the thang came out on vidjo, and then forced my kids to watch it (and, as a result, Goobs is intermittently addicted to it**). Forced myself to watch National Treasure, too, but was, ultimately, glad of it, because I’m an extremely loyal person. Even so, when I saw the trailer for Ghost Rider, I was a little surprised. Now, Girlfriend’s Husband is the comic-book nut, and knew the Ghost Rider story, so I felt justified in my surprise when it was clear that he shared that surprise about casting. Regardless, though, we were committed to seeing this movie. The trailers hinted at way cool special effects, Nick Cage seemed as loopy playing Johnny Blaze as he’d been playin H. I. McDonough, and . . .well, it was the next thingy in our comic-book-to-movie collection. We had to see it. And at the theatre. This wasn’t one of those flimsy Transporter 2 commitments you hear tell about.

Problem was, every time I mentioned Ghost Rider to my friends, Girlfriend would sigh and roll her eyes. She was clearly not committed. And I had known and loved this couple long enough to know that if Girlfriend dug in her heels, Girlfriend’s Husband was not interested in changing her mind. That’s just not the way they relate to each other. Which is prolly one of the reasons why their relationship works. But then Girlfriend went away to New York. And got snowed in.

This was the Ghost Rider Commitment Opportunity.

Girlfriend’s Husband made a coupla thousand calls to New York***, we snatched up our kids and, placing them around us in really good stadium seating, we saw the movie. Nick Cage had new hair (has had new hair since Nat’l Treasure, in fact) and looked only about twice Eva Mendes’ age, but, overall, I was pleased. The story was new to me as a non-comic-book reader, but archetypal (one of those soul-sellin dealies), so also comfortably familiar. Cage was weird and wonderful and hilarious. The special effects delighted and scared me. (Y’all know I’m a wuss where the cinematic depiction of True Evil is concerned, and the folk sittin at the PCs during the making of this movie really had Chops. And I ain’t mad at ‘em. I mean, think about it: if you must have Lucifer and a few of his minions in a story, don’t you want them to be all you imagined them to be?) Sam Elliot was just a transcendent BABE, as per usual. And the Good Guy triumphed in the end.

I did have some issues about the movie, though. For one thing, the ending was just silly and overwritten. Girlfriend’s Husband and I listened to the final speech Johnny Blaze makes to Lucifer, and I whispered, “That makes no sense.” Girlfriend’s Husband whispered back, “Naw. That’s deep!” and then, after a beat, we both fell out laughing.

Listen. You do not want to sit in the row in front of us, any combination of us, at a movie theatre.


*This exchange, by the way, just this minute reminded me of the several and various exchanges between girlfriend and me, later on, every time Legolas showed his uh. . . .chops.

** I’m a Bad Mother.

***Actually, this fact has nothing whatsoever to do with the logistics of watching a movie with the girlfriend of one's wife. Nothing to do with movies, at all, unless one needs material for a True Romance.

Dear Brother Jesus, I thank You for properly supervised fun with friends and family.