Face To Face With Greatness

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Disney's latest film Moana tells the story of a teenage Polynesian girl that wants to run away from home. However although most teenage girls that runaway from home do so for dangerous reasons, such as the fact that they've put their trust into an older man with a nice car and a predatory agenda, Moana simply wants to save her island from a destructive curse. To do this she must hunt down a demi-God named Maui who is essentially responsible for all of the troubles that she's suffering, which must be nice for her. I mean, as a society, we're all used to a God being at the heart of our troubles, but unlike everybody else that's ever been gullible enough to believe in one, at least she knows that hers isn't total made-up bullshit. Her adventure involves travelling overseas, which is something that her father has strictly forbidden her to do because it's dangerous and he has some common sense. However the girl's dying Grandma is at a point in her life where she clearly doesn't give a fuck about anything and so encourages our hero out on her suicide mission. The old woman also thinks that once she dies she'll turn into a giant stingray looking thing that'll no doubt help the plot out at some point. I don't know why she wants to be a giant stingray but I'm going to guess she's not a fan of Steve Irwin.

A Film For Actual Teenagers?

There's a scene in American Pie in which the main character gets a girl into his room and secretly films her getting her tits out on his webcam... I guess nothing smacks of hilarity like a sex crime. Call me a prude but when I was a teenager I had higher ambitions than simply getting drunk and finding a girl to cram my balls into. As a result I pretty much hated every bigger budget teen movie that I saw thanks to their complete obliviousness of my life. I suppose there's meant to be an aspirational element to all of those films in which brain-dead frat boys get their steroid-shrivelled cocks sucked off by a gang of crab-riddled, cheerleading slags. The reality is however that rather than spending a couple of hours feeling like I was part of their gang, I was left to return to a life of feeling left out. Was that what I was meant to be doing? I think that during my teenage years I spent more time trying to think of a particularly witty suicide note than I did about getting laid. In fact, being the depressed geek that I was I did actually come up with one that would depressingly also apply to the oft-fucked and vaginal-stinking 'jocks'. To put it simply, “So long and thanks for all the fish”.