My husband, Chris, got me this storybook-style print from artist Josh Cooley for my birthday in July. (It's kind of still curled up right now, I need to get a frame for it.) Cooley does illustrated cool quotes from films like The Terminator or The Professional as if they were a page from a Little Golden Book.
Um. I love children's storybooks. Hello? I love that girl in the bottom of that well, calling out to that yappy little poodle, Precious, in her West Virginia twang. I love to sing along to Tom Petty's American Girl in my car, drumming along on the steering wheel before I'm about to be abducted in a parking lot.
But who do I love even more? Buffalo Bill. That Ted Levine gravely voice. That scene with the, er, tuck in. The night vision goggles!
So now that it's the Halloween season, perhaps it's okay to admit to you that my favorite film of all time is Silence of The Lambs. Not that weird, it did win best picture at the Oscars. But, while most people feel like it's maybe okay to root for Hannibal Lecter (the lesser of two evils in this serial killer show down) I love Bill just as much.
Okay, so, no. I don't love REAL serial killers. Except for my dad. But I do love romanticized fictional characters that burn into your brain, no matter how evil (or maybe because of how evil) they are.
This is because when we were kids we were allowed to watch that stuff. It's weird because my mom was so Mary Poppins, but we somehow just got away with seeing all sorts of crazy-scary movies. I'm pretty sure I had seen The Shining, Poltergeist, American Werewolf in Paris and at least one Jason movie by the time I was eight. Eh. It was the eighties.
Although, that's not an excuse for my dad taking Kathleen to see the ultimate serial killer star-crossed lovers romantic blood bath Natural Born Killers (ahem, in the nineties) when she was twelve... at the actual theatre! But it does explain why she has idolized Juliette Lewis ever since. "How sexy am I now!?"
These days, romantic comedies are a bit more Kathleen's cup of tea. She didn't really stomach Hostel that well when I made her go watch it in the theatre with me. But teased me for delighting in every torturous finger-nail extraction or limb amputation. More butter on my popcorn please!
Listen I'm the oldest. The responsible one. The mom. The square of the three of us siblings. So I've got to have my guilty pleasures, too. I'm not psycho. I cry at romantic comedies, too. I just also happen to tear up at the opening soundtrack to The Shining, or when Carol Ann's mother tells her to "stay away from the light," or, with end credits scrolling, Hannibal Lecter saunters off into the sunset, head tilted just so, hand on his fedora, ... wait, I need a Kleenex just thinking about it.