JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

Wednesday. 1520h screening of And I Love You So, Power Plant Cinema 2. The title and trailer are honest: this is a drippy movie. It is concentrated schmaltz; they should hand out tissues and nasal decongestants. After the events of last week I think we know what genuine grief unmediated by box-office considerations looks like: this movie is a bit much. It’s like swimming in condensada (super-sweetened condensed milk): it gets in your nose, suffocates you, and turns your brain into yema. After nearly an hour of sitting through the mostly self-inflicted torments of the heroine, I decided to leave. I was warned. My bad.

Then something happened to remind me why I go to the movies instead of watching videos at home.

In the movie Bea Alonso plays a preschool teacher, Derek Ramsay the dead guy (He appears in a wig early on. Aiiiieeee! tragic mistake), and Sam Milby the live guy. (It’s like Anthony Minghella’s Truly, Madly, Deeply without the truly the madly or the deeply!)

Bea Alonso is teaching her kindergarten students the alphabet. They are doing the letter G. There is a knock on the classroom door. The other teacher opens it. It’s Sam Milby in a calculatedly swoony bit. “G is also for Guapo!” cries other teacher. And what else is G for?

“Gay,” chorus the people in the back rows.

You have to admit, they set themselves up.

I had to exit the theatre and call my friends, I was laughing so hard. Don’t sue me, just reporting an actual occurrence.