Let it be known that when I’m in a wonky weird frown-based mood, that’s the time I usually go to the movies. By myself. Just so that I can tell myself I managed to get out of the house (only to do the most passive thing possible — sit in the dark, alone, and watch moving images. Let the tiny violin symphony play, play, play!)

So usually my reviews of movies I’ve seen in the theatre are created through a sad-faced filter. And my reviews are of movies that are second run — shown in that weird place next to the freeway, the place of $3 show and $1 hot dogs, the place where I can feel safe showing up in a doo-rag and sweat pants without even a washed face.

So I just saw Up. I went with absolute, rock-bottom expectations. I have limited patience for any movie, let alone something that’s been branded by (gak) D*sney. Please don’t engage me as to why I despise D*sney. I don’t have all day to count the ways.

And I knew absolutely nothing about the movie itself, so I didn’t know what I was in for. And: well, it was pretty good. I wish I could’ve been more delighted by the whole package. I liked the ideas, but the execution was just not there for me. The dogs were too blocky. The characters’ introductions were rushed, so it took time to find empathy and to sink into the narrative. And, as usual, I was creeped out at the waxy dimensional icky fleshy humans that this modern style of animation has.

And, for pete’s sake, you can’t scotch tape bottle caps and dog biscuits into a paper-paged scrapbook.

Yes, I shed some tears, or really, I was manipulated into shedding some tears. I did enjoy a couple of men harrumphing in the audience in an “I’m not crying I have something in my eye” way, and a little kid who provided his own, sung soundtrack when the movie’s soundtrack was just not enough for him. And I really enjoyed my hot dog and Icee (half Coke, half cherry).

I think I may wash my face and change into some real clothes, just like a human!

My Dad is 100 Years Old originally uploaded by striatic