Earlier this week, I shared Dove’s Real Beauty Sketches campaign on my facebook wall. I shared it because the video left me with tears in my eyes, an impressive feat for what ultimately amounts to an extended commercial for body moisturizer. It told a story that made me pause for a moment to think about the way I perceive myself. It conveyed something fundamentally true that made me feel for the women in the video. To me, it achieved everything that I would normally expect from a well-made documentary or short film.
The movie industry gained more than 50,000 new investors this week. If you haven’t been following the story, lead actress Kristen Bell and creator Rob Thomas took to Twitter on Wednesday, asking fans of the long-cancelled cult tv show Veronica Mars to foot the bill for a movie.
Bell and Thomas had good reason to think their fan base would be on board with the idea of a movie. A small but fiercely loyal band of “Marshmellows” (as Veronica Mars devotees call themselves) has been clamoring for a next chapter ever since the show unceremoniously disappeared off the air in 2007. After all, in the Season 2 words of Veronica Mars tortured bad boy Logan Echolls, his story with Veronica is epic, “spanning years and continents. Lives ruined. Blood shed. EPIC.” Marshmellows from around the world have done their part to prove Logan right. In lieu of ruining lives and shedding blood, they have spent years signing petitions and organizing letter writing campaigns. The cast hasn’t been far behind the fans, loudly and unanimously making known their desire to reprieve their roles. Bell has perhaps been most vocal, telling Entertainment Weekly that she “has never fallen so deeply in love with a character.” She even went so far as to say that she “would have put on Veronica Mars: The Circus to bring it back.”
I’m not what you would call a Christmas person. It’s the rare day in December that finds me voluntarily listening to holiday music. I don’t spend the day after Thanksgiving pulling out the twinkling lights and decorating the tree. I dread snow, postpone gift wrapping until the last possible minute, and avoid tacky sweater parties whenever possible.
There is, however, one Christmas tradition I have affectionately kept every year since I was four – and that is an annual viewing of White Christmas.
Over the years, this movie schooled me on everything from the ins and outs of double dating (best to sit “boy, girl, girl, boy.”) to inexplicable 50’s slang (“Well, I like that. Without so much as a kiss my foot or have an apple.”) to a wholly ridiculous view of the WWII era military (“A million handsome guys with longing in their eyes – and all you had to do was pick the age, the weight, the size.”)
Of the many – true and false – things White Christmas has taught me, these are just a few: