WARNING! The following post was written under the influence of Bionicles. Please lower your expectations accordingly.
As I type this, the boys and I are watching BIONICLE: THE MASK OF LIGHT. Why, you ask? It is a part of my nefarious plan, my PLOT, if you will. I shall fill their days with the presence of Bionicles, the sounds of them fighting and flying and shooting, the feel of their tiny pieces scattered all over the floor underfoot, the sight of them, poised for action, on every surface in the house, until their little minds snap, and they are reduced to weeping piles of exhaustion, begging for respite, promising any favor, if I will only TAKE AWAY THE BIONICLES.
No, that’s not MY plan, that’s THEIR plan.
And it’s working.
This morning I woke up with a little grey rod from one of Max’s Bionicles plastered to the skin above my left knee. I peeled it off and gave it to Max.
“Is this yours?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.
“MAMA!” he protested. “Did you LOSE any of the pieces?”
So the latest installment in the “Destroy Mama with Bionicles” plan is this movie, this animae adventure monstrosity. For the last week and a half the begging for this movie has reached a fever pitch.
“Good morning, Tre,” I said the other morning.
“Maaaaask of Liiiiiiiiight,” he replied.
“What would you like for breakfast,” I asked Max.
“Maaaaaask of Liiiiiiiiight.”
“Raphael, please take that out of your nose.”
“MAAAAAASSSSK OF LIIIIIIGHT.”
So I, in my ever-thoughtful and deliberate parenting style, eventually snapped,
“FINE FINE FINE, we’ll go get it TODAY, now STOP ALREADY.”
Ah, the nurturing love of a mother. Makes you all warm and glowy inside, doesn’t it?
We hunted down the elusive DVD, popped it in, and here we are. Since I am such an involved and caring parent, I am watching it with them. This affords me the opportunity to share in their interests, answer any questions they might have, and wish I were deaf and blind.
Since I’m here, let me share with you my review of the movie, so far.
We begin in the
Seriously, the plot is incomprehensible, the dialogue peppered with Toa language that I have been seriously remiss in studying, and the animation? The animation is done by the type of people we all knew in high school; you know the ones, who doodled fantastic creatures and knives dripping blood and buxom women with hair blowing wildly. The kind of guys who looked up from their drawings with that otherworldly stare and said, “Cool, huh?”
My thought then, as now:
“Uh, yeah. Whatever.”
But the boys couldn’t be more thrilled. They stare, slack-jawed, interjecting occasional remarks. When one red-masked Toa appeared on screen, Tre lifted his own Bionicle and declared triumphantly,
“THAT’S THIS GUY! SEE? SEE?”
I could barely see a resemblance, but I nodded and tried to look impressed. Tre’s Bionicle waved happily at his on-screen likeness. A few minutes later Max snorted in derision,
“Ha! They’re not even speaking TOA!” He looked at me and I laughed in agreement.
I have no idea what they’re talking about.
Now there are rocks flying around and bolts of…um...green energy stuff shooting everywhere, and general chaos all over the place. Someone’s kingdom has been destroyed, and his sister is very worried about him. He, on the other hand, has been poisoned by the Rakshees (phonetic spelling here, work with me), and is behaving badly.
I don’t understand a bit of it, but that may be because I’m watching three little boys. Their brown eyes are intense, riveted to the screen. Max chews his lip, and Raphael’s hands twitch reflexively on his Bionicle. Tre (who has read the book already), nods soberly and warns his brother that a great battle is coming.
“Cool,” breathes Raphael.
Watching my boys, I have to concede.
Yup, very cool.