Sez Who?

"Streisand can't act and Whoopie Pies suck!"

In order to write an article for my local newspaper column comparing  three versions of the same film, last night I tried to watch the 1976 version of A Star Is Born. I really tried, quite hard in fact, but after 50 minutes I grabbed the remote and shut off the horror. That was all I could take of the preening, screaming nonsense emanating from both of the leads, Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson. Really, the military could use it to coax information from war prisoners.

After some googling, I learned that the movie had won four Oscars and that Kristofferson had won a Golden Globe for Best Actor for his portrayal of an alcoholic rock star, a performance I personally topped a few nights ago after two glasses of red wine. (Next time please remind me that one is my absolute limit.) Now I'm worried that I won't like the latest version which every professional critic has called God's gift to filmdom, and everyone who has seen it has also raved. Then what-- my deadline fast approaches. (BTW, the 1954 version starring Judy Garland and James Mason is possibly my favorite movie of all time, just so you know.)

So what's wrong with me anyway? Why I don't like things that so many other other people do? This question has plagued me my whole life. Are we all supposed to accept that something has value because others say so? That could explain so much -- like Whoopie Pies which are all the rage here in Maine, despite being just two giant cake-y cookies with super-sweet frosting slathered between them. Supposedly they are "wicked good," but I just find them nauseating. Ditto Whoopie Goldberg. And especially whoopie cushions, which are gross and immature and not funny at all. Even the very word, like shouting "Whoopie!" on New Year's Eve, irks me. Also the whole New Year's thing, with the parties and the drinking and the resolutions and the "out with the old and in with the new," even though it's just the very next day.

I suppose I need a support group.