All most people know of Mac and Me is a 15-second clip.
Viewed in full, this 1988 E.T. knockoff is justifiably considered one of most abysmal cinematic travesties ever made. The following is not a critical re-appraisal. At least I hope not. But it was once an important film for me, very dear to my heart. Why?
Don’t tell me how good WALL-E is. I’ve heard. I’ve been hearing. Don’t tell me it’s top tier Pixar, perhaps the GOAT from the studio. Not interested. Don’t tell me it’s both bleak and heartwarming, and confronts the destructive path of humankind with bravery and grace, a work of animated art everyone should watch. It’s still a “no” from me. I refuse.
Just kidding. I adore WALL-E. I saw it in the theater the week it came out, and the little robot’s story resonated deeply with my life situation at the time. I own the DVD and return to it every few years, finding new joys in each re-watch. It’d be my favorite Pixar if it wasn’t for a certain chef rat. The above paragraph was my attempt at inhabiting my sister-in-law’s consciousness. For the 15 long years that WALL-E has existed, this has been her mindset. My sister-in-law refuses to watch WALL-E, no matter how many times I try to convince her.
All most people know of Mac and Me is a 15-second clip.
Viewed in full, this 1988 E.T. knockoff is justifiably considered one of most abysmal cinematic travesties ever made. The following is not a critical re-appraisal. At least I hope not. But it was once an important film for me, very dear to my heart. Why?
Welcome to Close Reads! In this new series, Leah Schnelbach and their guests will dig into the tiny, weird moments of pop culture—from books to theme songs to viral internet hits—that have burrowed into our minds, found rent-stabilized apartments, started community gardens, and refused to be forced out by corporate interests.
This time out, author Henry Hoke recalls a chance encounter with The Devil—not at a crossroads, but in the pages of a suspiciously moralistic paperback.
The Waldenbooks at Fashion Square Mall in Charlottesville, Virginia was my personal portal to Hell.
