I popped out of my room this
past Tuesday morning to tell my mom that I was going with my brother to see a
movie. “Oh?” she asked, stepping into
the laundry room. “What movie?”
“The Avengers,” I answered.
Just saying it made me want to smile.
She turned to look at
me. “The
Avengers?” she asked, almost teasingly so.
“Don’t you want to see that movie Think
like a Man? Why don’t you go see
that instead?”
Now, let me be
perfectly frank here. I hold my parents in
extremely high esteem; I never went through those “rebellious teenage years”
because my parents were unduly good to me.
My mom took good care of me and my brother (the former being a
broccoli-haired nutcase, and the latter being a slacker making a nine in
Algebra II). My dad worked long, hard
hours at his job -- even if it meant going on extended trips -- just so we
could have a stable, comfortable household.
I’d sooner rob a bank than speak ill of them.
And yet, when my mom
suggested that I go see a movie besides The
Avengers, I almost laughed in her
face.
I knew instinctively
that The Avengers wasn’t a
movie. It was to be an event -- from its
May 4th release until its inevitable bowing out of theaters, it was
a holiday. A celebration that brought
together movie goers, comic fans, nerds, critics both armchair and
professional, and people just plain hungry for a good story. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t miss
it. Just as I didn’t want to get locked
out of the loop by passing on The Hunger
Games, so too did I want nothing more than to be a part of the superhero
festival.
But there’s a key
difference between The Hunger Games
and The Avengers. Namely, in that The Avengers surpassed even my earlier definition. It has surpassed being just a mere event.
The Avengers is The Avengers
-- a production that, with its merits alone, has created a fantastic niche for
itself. It is pure enjoyment
personified.
AND IT EVEN HAS ROBIN
SPARKLES.