the boy in the striped pajamas

Some films are like riding in a roller coaster: you pay your money, settle in, and you get some excitement and ya-yas.

Some films are like riding in your car: you know where you're going, you can predict a happy ending, you don't have to think too hard, everyone's happy.

Some films are like having triple bypass surgery in the back of a moving ambulance: you have no idea how it's going to turn out, it's scary, it's hard, it's bloody, and it's necessary.

We watched The Boy in the Striped Pajamas a few nights ago, naively thinking that a Holocaust story involving children might have a just-in-time happy ending. We forgot temporarily that the Holocaust itself didn't get to have one of those nice tidy endings, and for a few moments after the end credits began to roll, I felt sort of ripped off, like Hollywood had cheated us out of a good time with this realism nonsense.

How myopic I sometimes am.

--Teri.