I have really, really mixed feelings about this movie.

I think that it’s probably why it has taken me so long to write this review. I watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part One) on Thursday night. It is currently Sunday, and I still haven’t gathered my wits about me to write a ‘real’ review for it. As a fan, I think I’m predisposed to love it automatically. But let me quote the teen classic (LOL) 10 Things I Hate About You to illustrate what I felt when I was watching the film, “I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?”

The past few days, I am usually in that place where even though I am not super satisfied with the film—but this just might be because they left out this one part that I held dear and found really crucial to the story so I just might be resentful—I also want to maul and attack everybody who says that they found it dull, boring, and dragging. Much like this dude.

My Harry Potter film reviews always seem to turn into a long list of all the parts left out from the movie, so I’m going to try and not do that this time around. I think that because this series really, honestly means so much to me is why I am so protective of how it is being portrayed and adapted. And when people write it off, I get defensive because I truly feel like I am being personally attacked, even though I obviously am not. (My issues, not yours, don’t worry. I’m trying to get past~ this.)

One of my favorite parts of the film was something that wasn’t in the books, but encapsulated just why I loved Harry and Hermione’s friendship. It was when they were dancing to a song by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, inside a tent in the middle of nowhere, after being abandoned by Ron. I am definitely not a Harry/Hermione shipper and, even though people might read this scene that way, I feel like it was really such a great depiction of their sibling-like relationship. The song choice was also perfect, speaking about living with circumstances that they could not help.

To display that complexity, and reduce it from a book that is a few hundred pages long is a really hard thing to do. They obviously tried to condense it to fit as much as they could in such a short amount of time, but I really feel like a lot of the tension and moral dilemmas and character layers were glossed over and lost. Speaking of moral dilemmas, I loved what they did with the Malfoys. I really have got to hand it to Draco, and obviously, Tom Felton. It was one of the better performances in the film, for me, and I’ve always loved how they got into Draco’s character. Such a great source of tension—you can really see the fight going on in his head.

One particular subplot that I had been waiting for since the release of The Half-Blood Prince (book) was the story of Sirius brother, Regulus. To me, he was one of the most interesting characters of the book, which is saying a lot given that he had very little interaction with the rest of the characters we already knew, and given that he was given so few words. But I thought his story was so beautiful, and even though it made me sad, his involvement was so crucial to me, and I can’t believe that they did away with it entirely. Choosing that, they have also reduced the redemption of Kreacher’s character.

I think, though, that one of the film’s greater successes is its portrayal of the Trio. The friendship, loyalty, bravery, and love between the three of them was so apparent, and I think that maybe this is what they decided to spend time on when they made the adaptation. I liked how their time together and apart erased all doubts between them. And how their dynamic really works with each other. One of the lines that I really loved, in the book, that they left out of the film was said after Ron came back and was lamenting the fact that Dumbledore left him the Deluminator because he knew Ron would leave, and Harry tells him, “No, he must have known you would always want to come back.”

There are so many things to like about this film, so I kind of feel bad that I had to pick at the film and dig out the parts that I thought were weak. But seeing as the only people who complained about the lack of Regulus are me and my friend Yun’er, I guess not a lot of people minded that it was gone.

I don’t know. I feel like I can’t successfully word everything that I feel about this film in one measly post. And I feel like I will have to get back and write more once I get around to seeing it again, or write about a purely fangirly post about the little things and little jokes that they included, and squee about the lines and moments that made it through the cut. I have so many things left to say, but I feel like I am not in the right mindframe to get into them. There will probably be a re-review—one that has more flail-y bits and incomprehensible keyboardmashing. Maybe! I don’t want to be a hater no mo’!

Prisoner of Azkaban is still my favorite adaptation. I felt like Cuaron really made it his own, but didn’t take too much away of the themes and events. Yeah, the book was considerably shorter, and he did cut out a lot of the things from the book, but I felt like it was the film that felt whole; a film in its own right, and not just a disjointed combination of scenes from a book.

And I do realize that no adaptation is perfect, but I feel like this one comes pretty close. The thing is: I really don’t think anybody could do anything that would make me hate this series. It is such a big part of me, and just the act of seeing it unfold before me makes me really, really glad.

On one fateful day in May, I was all set to watch an obviously non-cerebral, funny-ha-ha Filipino film called Here Comes the Bride. While I wasn’t buzzing with excitement and anticipation, I was, on some base level, looking forward to it. I mean, I guess. I wasn’t prepared to arrive at the cinema and… be faced with Miley’s big mug.

But, alas, the world has its ways of turning a night filled with the potential of senseless humor into one filled with a lot of confusion and questions (i.e. “Why?” times infinity, and “How did you get made, movie?”).

As a movie person (not a buff, just someone who enjoys watching movies in general), I’ve come to the realization that I shouldn’t really expect much from Nicholas Sparks adaptations, especially those that he’s written to maturate Hannah Montana’s “squeaky-clean image.”

There are several things that are “wrong” with the movie, and very little “redemptive” elements. The characters were, in fan-fictional terms, “Mary Sues”¹ with certain character quirks meant to wow the audience, but resulted in turning me and Raymond into a groan-y and eye-roll-y mess. Oh, she loves sea turtles and reads Tolstoy on the beach, oh, he loves sea turtles and quotes Tolstoy in its original, untranslated text. Give me a frakking break.

The movie was so unremarkable that I needed to Wikipedia the main characters’ names just to be sure that I remember them. (It turns out that I do.) Ronnie, played by Miley Cyrus, is this rebel-IDGAF-but I’m talented on the inside classical pianist with a penchant for the environment, lost causes and shoplifting. She meets Will (Liam Whatshisface) when he is playing beach volleyball and crashes into her and her milkshake. Cue painfully unfunny banter.

She got into Juilliard School², but doesn’t want to go because of Daddy Issues with Greg Kinnear (who was awesome, obviously). He got into Columbia, but is being pressured by mommy and daddy to go to Vanderbilt instead, as it is their family tradition. Oh, my sorrowful life. What a frakking tragedy.

The movie stretches to great lengths, focusing on an on-again-off-again, I-love-you-no-I-don’t love affair, complete with random, hormonal outbursts care of Miley. The supporting characters were also cookie-cutter and annoying, serving no other purpose than furthering the “plot” and filling in the non-kissy gaps. See, there was a fire in a church, a dead brother, an ungrateful friend that needed to be saved from Bad News Boyfriend, a “precocious” (but actually annoying) kid, hot ex-girlfriends, and a barely-there mother played by a high-profile-ish actress.

I get the intention of “off-beat” characters, I really do. But the movie does nothing to make any of these work. Out-of-place quirkiness is what I’d probably call it, because the film spews so many details that has no place in the story. I mean, so what if she’s vegan?

Such tired clichés that have been inserted so the movie has some semblance of substance is what ruins it, ultimately. The problem with Nicholas Sparks films is that he uses the same elements over and over again, and because of the frequency of his film releases, people begin to see the patterns form into their heads. Sparks movies capitalize on sap, and (usually) attractive lovers overcoming the “odds.” In other words, they are unabashedly formulaic.

The film could have worked if there was some sort of connectedness of all the tiny little details that could have been wonderful. What could have worked as a totally different, lovable film (because I honestly believe that it could have been one) did not. The Last Song was inauthentic and lacked a lot of heart. My favorite parts were the baby sea turtles and the raccoon that was trying to eat them. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I think that that’s an indication of a movie failing to deliver.

In the end, after much snickering and wisecracking, we still didn’t know what we were watching, and we weren’t sure if we wanted to find out.

If this review and low ratings on Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB don’t convince you to avoid wasting your money, just make sure you bring somebody with you to snicker with, or a vial of enough fuel to write a whiny review after you’re done seeing it.

———
¹ A Mary Sue is, “a fictional character with overly idealized and hackneyed mannerisms, lacking noteworthy flaws, and primarily functioning as a wish-fulfillment fantasy for the author or reader.” (Wikipedia. It’s a credible source, shut up.)

² Despite its average 7.58% acceptance rate in real life, Juilliard School in the Fictional Realm has accepted Ronnie Miller (Cyrus in The Last Song) and Sara Johnson (Julia Stiles in Save the Last Dance). It has also given scholarships to Ryan Evans and Kelsi Nielsen (Ryan Grabeel and Oleysa Rulin in High School Musical 3: Senior Year).

Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight franchise is arguably the most popular young adult series in the market today. Anyone who argues this statement is an idiot. If you watch television, spend a considerable amount of time online, or go outdoors and talk to people, then you will have heard of Edward Cullen, a “vampire,” and his unmatched love story with Bella Swan — holy crap! — a mortal. Lots of stuff happens in between but that is the main idea and Meyer hammers that into her audience’s head time and time again.

I have not been a very big fan of Twilight. On the contrary, I’ve spent many a-time online devoted to its mockery. A week and a half after New Moon, the much-awaited Twilight sequel’s adaptation to film, opened here and I still had not been able to see it. Until 10:00 P.M. tonight, when the lure to mock the series intelligently was too great for me to ignore for another week.

In case you were interested, New Moon in a nutshell: loads of heavy breathing (not due to sexual activity), fast cars, glittery people with weird colored eyes, Jacob Black!, wolves!, sage advice completely ignored by Bella, and “intense” close-ups and slow-motion sequences chosen to convey several emotions… I’m just never sure what kind.

New Moon in an even smaller nutshell: Facepalm (but sounds good, man!)

In case you are still interested, The Unabridged Version of My Aversion To Twilight will be under the cut. To be fair, I do have some nice things to say about the movie. But, a word of warning, there’s not really a lot of nice things I can say about this movie. So, leave if you think you might be a little sentimental or protective of the characters in Meyer’s universe.

New Moon is, essentially, about how Edward Cullen realizes how he is endangering the life of the woman he loves and, in effect, decides to make her believe that she is not good enough for him. And then, he leaves her in the woods, promising never to show his face to her again.

Bella undergoes traumatic after-effects (nightmares, depression, self-alienation from her friends) and the life that Edward wanted her to have — “a normal, happy life” — is still evasive, since she is wallowing in her room, piteously, as the crafty cinematography shows how months pass in a continuous shot of Bella, unmoving in her chair, the seasons changing outside her window (to a very awesome song).

In the middle of everything, there is a realization that putting herself in any kind of danger is the only time that she can “see” Edward, in the form of visions, so she decides to enlist her friend Jacob Black’s help to refurbish two worn-out motorcycles she magically was able to salvage from a junkyard. The time they spend together causes sexual tension, during which Bella refers to her 18-year-old self as a “cougar” and rejects any sort of advancement Jacob extends towards her, despite the fact that he’d inadvertently been helping her cope with the loss of “the love of her life.”

Very early into the movie, Charlie Swan, Bella’s dad tells her a very important lesson (in life, and in this particular situation): “Sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you.” Charlie is actually one of the people Meyer has crafted that I can stand, and this is, honestly, very sage advice. Bella, however, throws it out of the window and fights the feelings she had been developing for Jacob, and when he gets rejected after what feels like a thousand times, he stops returning her calls.

Because she is selfish and needs Jacob in her life, she hunts him down, sees that he’s changed and that he seems to not want to be around her anymore. She gets herself into even more danger, gets rescued by Jacob Black (because he is awesome) and finds out about the truth about him and how exactly he has changed.

My favorite parts of the movie are actually the ones with all the werewolves in them. I am, admittedly, mostly drawn to broody types (Marcus Flutie, Jordan Catalano, Tim Riggins), but Edward Cullen broods himself to no end. At least Meyer got the metaphor right when it came to Jacob. In a scene that I am quite fond of, Bella tells him: “You’re warm. You’re like your own sun.” And maybe it’s a personal bias. I rooted for the Lycans in Underworld, and Remus Lupin is my favorite character in the Harry Potter series. But there is something in the way Meyer writes her vampires that makes me want to stab my eyes.

It’s a very complicated story with pointless twists and plotlines, and I can rant about the weaknesses of the Twilight saga and how it seems to totally ignore the mythology behind vampires, et cetera, et cetera. But I find that I am most bothered by the fact that instead of creating a powerful female figure, Meyer is trying to revive the helpless damsel who gets herself into trouble. All. The. Frakking. Time.

On the surface, she seems to have crafted the ideal, independent girl for the modern age: Bella does not like shopping and likes zombie flicks. She drives a truck and listens to “Claire de Lune” and she wears an olive green jacket two sizes too big for her, an oversized look which, if I can point out, was first done by Angela Chase and Lindsay Weir. The scene where Bella leaves the movies with her friend Jessica is constructed to make Jessica look vapid next to her, but instead it brought to my attention how insightful and intelligent Jessica is, as opposed to Bella, whose sole mission in life seems to be to get herself into trouble because that seems to be the only way to get Edward’s attention. At least Jessica was smart enough not to get on a motorcycle with some creeper in an alley, catcalling her.

What frustrates me more than the gross exchange between Edward and Bella (whose love seems to be founded on nothing, by the way) and the inexplicable advances, or lack thereof, of her relationships, is the fact that whatever seems the most sensible thing to do is always clear to everyone. Bella just happens to be set on doing what seems to be the opposite of what everyone thinks is right for her — for very stupid reasons.

I know there are grey areas and things are never really just right and wrong, but people like Joss Whedon and Russell T. Davies have been creating powerful female characters like Buffy Summers and Rose Tyler, and Stephenie Meyer seems intent on driving a stake through their hearts and killing them, in favor of such a weak and ridiculous character like Bella Swan. I don’t like the portrayal of vampires (no death by sunlight? By stake? No? Oh, okay) and I don’t like how stupid Edward and Bella’s “love” is, but my main issue is how Meyer has been effectively destroying the image of women, preaching really dumb ideas to her enormous fanbase. This is my main issue.

“I want to be like Bella Swan.” Who in their right mind would say that?

Things that I did like:

1. The soundtrack was obviously good.
2. Taylor Lautner turned out good. And also, every single one of the werewolves were hot. Paul was especially attractive.
3. They were mostly half-naked the entire time.
4. First time that I did not hate Rosalie.
5. Dakota Fanning was awesome.
6. The special effects improved from the first film.
7. Jacob Black!
8. Charlie Swan.
9. The change of setting was nice.
10. Jacob Black.

And so. I leave you with a few thoughts:

1. Bella, you are stupid.
2. Stop ignoring what everybody says!
3. I am afraid of the ideas this generation is getting from this saga.
4. Vampires burn in the sun and also die by stakes. Don’t create your own immortal beings, write off a few hundred years’ worth of culture and lore, and call them ‘vampires.’ Don’t be dumb.
5. I cannot wait for Breaking Dawn.
6. It makes me sad what she has in store for Jacob’s character. :(
7. How the frak was Taylor Lautner born in 1992?

I am probably one of the few people who waited to watch the new feature, (500) Days of Summer, until it came out locally in theatres on October 21st. Because I am the sort of person who frequents the Internet, I have been bombarded by mysterious quotes from the films, lacking in context, and photo collages intended to convey a certain mood or message from the movie, for the last month and a half. So, I knew, essentially, how it would end.

But because I am a curious cat, I decided to see it, to find out how things would unravel. And also because I find Joseph Gordon-Levitt attractive. And also Zooey Deschanel.

I was admittedly wary of seeing the film because a) I am a completely judgmental person and I own up to it. For the last few weeks, this film was shoved into my face by people whose tastes I did not trust. I know that’s pretty shallow of me, to judge something based on what kind of person likes said thing. But I’m just telling you what I felt and why a little part of me did not want to see it.

b) I could not reconcile reality with a world where someone knowing who The Smiths are is unique. I thought, “Well, honestly, who doesn’t know The Smiths?” But my brother has assured me that this is indeed a rarity among girls.

c) Mostly everything the author of this post pointed out, pretty much turned me off of the film.

However, my reaction to (500) Days of Summer wasn’t nearly as antagonistic towards it. Just to clear things up, I did enjoy the film. I liked the leads, the soundtrack, the visuals, the editing, the supporting characters. I liked that scene in Ikea, which I am taking as a Pavement reference. I liked the build-up, the transitions, the clothes. I liked the rabid shouting of “Penis!” in the park.

My favorite part, probably, is the treatment and editing of the film. I enjoyed how it cuts the “500 days” into segments and rearranges them into a chronology that lets you understand their whole dynamic and the duration of their relationship better. Where it shows a scene of them in Ikea at one point, then returns to this a little later, bearing the existing context, explaining why that place is so important to the both of them. I think this is also a reference to how the mind works, when we remember things. How we break everything into moments that matter, and then look into the unimportant parts, where we begin to realize that what we failed to see at that particular time, there are traces of what would go wrong.

I remember where JGL’s character, Tom, talks about how he runs through all his moments with Summer, trying to figure out where it all started to go downhill. And it was all in the little subtleties that he finds what he was looking for, like when he waves that Ringo Starr LP and she was obviously fighting against rolling her eyes. It’s funny how when someone stops finding you funny is when you know, absolutely, that things probably aren’t going to work out between the two of you.

I like how it made me feel like one of the main reasons why you grow attached to a person, despite them being such a big douche to you, is because of all the nice things you’ve shared with each other.

Everything, probably, up until that last scene, I liked. Some parts were a bit too indie-hipster-quirky, but as a whole, I thought it was a very good film. I think the reason why I’d also been a bit averse to seeing it is because, really, of how hyped it became and how all these people who I didn’t share these sorts of things with were starting to close into the little part of the Universe I considered to belong to me (and kindred souls).

Something Summer said (about the sunglasses and little purses with dogs in them) actually made me realize that it’s really stupid to think that what other people like is stupid and complain about it. People like what they like, most of the time without good reason.

So, I like this movie, because I like it. There are many good reasons for me to state (which, technically, I already have), explaining the reason behind this attraction to the film, but I don’t need to have any to be able to say that I do.

And because some people are interested in these kinds of things, this was what I wore:

In other news, I have been exercising my tablet-skills by drawing what I wore today, instead of taking photos. Because I realized that I don’t really like posting on my Lookbook (I do have one, the horror~) and I really like doing it. This is what I wore last Friday:

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS: Five Words Is Not Enough. (Or, “Daniel Brühl is Frakking Hot.”)
SPRING AWAKENING: Regret: Didn’t See On Broadway.

So, there. I am done biznatching.

So, today I cut my thesis class to work on my actual thesis. I actually haven’t done much tangible work (I’ve been more of researching and speculating), so I really needed to step up my game, so to speak. I’ve borrowed books from the library, returned the ones I didn’t need and now we are left with this stack right here:

I actually probably have to go back to the library and return some of these or check out some of the other books. I was going to reference “Chuck Klosterman IV” also, but when I looked for it, it wasn’t on my bookshelf. Therefore, I must have lent it out again, and forgot to whom again. This is why I shouldn’t lend out books to people ever again, ever. Ever. But that is another story.

My friend, Raymond, was nice enough to lend me this book of his, which I am excited to flip through because a) it looks like it would be useful, and b) it’s so pretty:

He also lent me his copy of Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless, I guess, for my education. (I have not seen a single Godard film, and yes, I am ashamed of myself.)

On another note, my friend Patty/Petra gave me, out of nowhere, this little owl:

It’s a beanbaggy type of kreacher, and it inspired (?) me to show you, random reader, the rest of my OWLERY. You see, owls are one of the things that I do collect. My other friend, Barby, actually collects owls also, and is more overt in her collecting ways. But anyway, here is the rest of the owl-related paraphernalia I have acquired over the years:

FIGUREENZ. Three of them were inherited from my lola (my mommy’s mommy) and
the girliest one — the one with eyelashes, looking over her shoulder — was given to me
by my mom when she went to Australia.

A purse-thing I got from China! Is it not the cutest thing ever? It is!

Some clothes: pajama bottoms, a shirt and some underwear.

Pendant! I actually gave one of these to my friend (Barby! Who likes owls!), so we have matching necklaces. :)

I do not have a stuffed Hedwig (wibble, wibble) because when the toys came out, I wasn’t allowed to read Harry Potter. I do not have anything of Owl from Winnie the Pooh, because he kind of pissed me off. I do appreciate his knowledge, though, now that I am older. Also, I find that I have turned out more like him than any of the other characters in the Hundred Acre Wood. I don’t know if I like this realization, or if I just decided to live with it.

My first encounter with John Hughes was in the third grade, when I was confined in the hospital for contracting something called “acute viral infection” (I’m still not sure what it is). Sixteen Candles was on HBO and my life changed forever. What followed next was a frantic search for it on video. My uncle runs a video rental and up until this day, a small part of me still hasn’t forgiven him for not having a copy of this, dare I say, classic.
 

Samantha Baker is, perhaps, the first person who I wanted to be like. Or the first character who seemed to feel like I felt. As Farmer Ted put it, “Not many girls in contemporary American society would give their underwear to help a geek like me.” She is awesome. For a while, I even wanted to be referred to by my second first name, ‘Samantha.’ (Also, Jake Ryan, duh. Of course, I related to her. Never mind that I was barely 10 years old and hooked to an IV bag.)

But to digress from my digression, the movie was nowhere to be found. What I did run into was a VCD copy of Pretty in Pink, which in my Hughes-Ringwald-deprived state, was good enough for me. I watched it, liked it (although, obviously not as much as my first John Hughes love), even though it made it glaringly clear that I do not have a Duckie or a Blane.

In my quest to find a copy of this elusive video, I made friends with The Breakfast Club and, through my Tita Tine, who lives in New Jersey, I also made friends with Ferris Bueller. The age of the VHS tape came and went, and by the time I did finally get a copy of Sixteen Candles, tapes were obsolete, and so were the references. And yet.

Hey, John Cusack. You don’t know it yet, but you are going to make
a million girls fall in love with you. Just you wait and see.

The thing of it is that John Hughes is legendary because, underneath the (sometimes corny) rhyming (“He’s as drunk as a skunk!”), the cheeseball sound effects and the funny eighties slang, he knew where it counted in high school, no matter what era. The tragedy of forgotten birthdays, the thrill of skipping class, the wonder of that first kiss. He knew why, no matter what happens, the principal is always The Enemy, that the best friend doesn’t always get the girl (and that it’s OK), how love and friendship can be infuriating (and that it’s OK, too). He knew the truth, that: “We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.” He got it — that it’s OK to be different, that we never really know a person until we know a person, that it is not possible from embarrassment, even though it feels like it is, that everyone gets a happy ending (in the form of Jake Ryan or otherwise) and most importantly, that rock and roll is here to stay.

He knew where it counted, knew that we knew, too. And this is why, in the midst of all the deaths in the world in the past few months, John Hughes’ is probably the one that breaks my heart the most.

I miss John Hughes. I miss high school. I miss being sixteen.

You, yes, you.

To ease you through the mourning and the grieving, Twitter’s on a roll with John Hughes quotes.

“Life moves pretty fast.
If you don’t stop and look around once in a while,
you could miss it.”

 

Rest in Peace, Mr. Hughes.
Thank you for everything.

I have a rather peculiar history with Harry Potter. I started reading it in between fourth and fifth grade, I think (I remember I bought the first book right before a cousin’s party at Racks, and reading the first few paragraphs because I really couldn’t get into the rhythm of the story), but my love affair with The Boy Who Lived was quickly stunted because right after I finished the first book, my parents thought it best to disallow me from pursuing the rest of the series, since they believed it to be potentially harmful in certain ways.

In the sixth grade, I began to sneak off to the library and read the Chamber of Secrets, chapter after painstaking chapter, in between classes and a friend lent me her copy of the Prisoner of Azkaban. The first film, I saw by accident (and without sound), because it showed on a plane I was on, but I didn’t want my parents to find out I was watching so I didn’t wear the earphones. That was really enough for me — seeing the books that were so dear to my heart onscreen, even though it was on mute, was really like magic for me.

I don’t really blame my parents — they were pretty hardcore Christians, and they just wanted the best for me, and I suppose literature on witchcraft and wizardry wasn’t high on their list. I snuck off to watch the films, and read fan fiction (Draco/Hermione through & through), went to HP fansites occasionally, though not very often since each time after, I’d have to clear the browser history and delete cookies. I even got caught a few times, but my parents had been pretty merciful.

Needless to say, my obsession with Harry was pretty covert, that is until I was in fourth year high school and Goblet of Fire was coming out in theaters, and I asked my dad if I could please watch the movie. And he told me that, yes, yes I could. Biggest shock in my life, I tell you. Since then, I’d bought my own copy of the books and have re-read them again and again, and I know you know this: I have never looked back.

Not a lot of people will understand this, but the series really, truly changed my life, and each time I encounter it, still does. JK’s writing is not that great, but holy crap, the things that Harry and all the other characters have taught me. Even the Vatican sees it now. Every time I think about it, I still get shivers, my heart still swells. Because I know that no matter what happens, no matter what kind of shit hits the fan, no matter what new evil appears — the world is still good and it will be safe, as long as there are people who keep fighting for it. It sounds like a stupid thing to do, but whenever I get upset and I can’t stop crying (and this has been happening quite a few times recently), I only get a Harry Potter book, no matter which one, read it, and I calm down almost instantaneously.

I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to get that out. I have a rather complicated opinion regarding the HBP film, but no matter what they left out, kept or added, I still do love it because it’s Harry Potter. I never got my Hogwarts letter, but I never stopped believing.

An extensive blow-by-blow is available on my LJ. I didn’t put it here, because it’s spoiler-laden, and I wanted to be careful.