Winter and I watched the first 2 movies far more times than any self-respecting movie-viewer could handle and had been ready for part 3 for what feels like eons.
Yes, dear mommies, I know the movie is PG-13, and Winter is 5 years shy of this rating. There is violence, and some moms would not allow their babies to view this awful filth. What can I say? My kid has never been afraid of movie villains, and we chronically converse about reality versus the movie world. Plus, comic-book writer Stan Lee is not all about violence — he incorporates universal themes anyone can understand.
Those themes weren’t lost on “Spider-man 3.” The entire movie was based on forgiveness and free will to choose right or wrong — simple lessons we start teaching our children when they’re toddlers.
I emphasized free will when my boyfriend left the film to fetch a refill of pop. “Winter,” I whispered, “check this out.” I pointed to an inflated whoopee cushion while placing it on his seat. Eyes wide open, she leaned over me to see if it were really true.
“He’s going to see it!” She tapped my arm with worried excitement.
“He won’t. It’s too dark in here. It’ll take awhile for his eyes to adjust to the change of light.” She sat back, no longer paying attention to the movie.
We waited for him to return, fidgeting and struggling to look innocent. Sure enough, he sat right down on the cushion, releasing a thunderous fart that could rival Godzilla’s worst flatus. Winter and I erupted with giggles. It was too much. I couldn’t even breathe. He was so embarrassed I could see him blushing even in the dark.
It was difficult to hold back the laughter through the rest of the film, but we were sucked back into the movie, the incident forgotten. Later than evening, hoping to reinforce the film’s themes, I inquired of my daughter, “Do you think he’s going to get revenge for the whoopee cushion? Or do you think he’ll forgive me like Spider-man forgave Sandman?”
“Why would he forgive you?” she spat with such disdain you would’ve thought she’d suffered the embarrassment.
“Uh,” I stammered — and stopped. What’s the point? Why would he forgive me? You don’t forgive someone for embarrassing you — you get revenge. My loose attempt at reinforcing forgiveness was lost to whoopee-cushion antics. Ah, well. Perhaps I’ll have another chance to teach morality with the future release of “Spidey 4: The Return of the Blasted Whoopee Cushion.”