Turns out Romancing the Stone is still lots of fun. It does make me blush, however, to realize that at the age of 8 I took the film at face value. Now, of course, I can appreciate the value of satire. I also love remembering what went through my head as a child, or what I simply didn't bother to question. I recall not "getting" why the campfire made her dizzy (I guess I assumed it was just too hot already?) and not really pausing to wonder what the hell marijuana was. I guess I knew it was a drug, but again, it just didn't give me pause! I also recall thinking how uncomfortable the post-coital scene looked to me--as he was on top, surely he was just crushing the hell out of her boobs. So as you can see, I was concerned with the important things.
I'm glad I still enjoy the film, as it's fairly safe to say it played a decent role in my childhood. I was allowed to swear when quoting the movie, and Michael Douglas was (in this role, thank you) my first film star crush. I still find the role pretty hot, so at least I'm not completely mortified to admit it. The movie would be something of a failure if women found that character utterly repugnant. And luckily the dialogue makes me smile rather than cringe, so I think it holds up quite well.
As an adult, I can see that naturally it's rife with problems. Who the hell are these bad guys exactly and why does the (dead) brother-in-law have this fucking treasure map to begin with? The bad guys are very one-dimentional, I'm not even sure of their relation to each other or to the plot. Just that they want the stone. Fair enough. And really, I'm not terribly bothered--who needs cumbersome backstory anyway? In the end, I think the whole reason this film is so enjoyable is largely due to the two leads, their chemistry, and a well-paced plot.
So I would still highly recommend this flick to anyone willing not to take it too seriously. When half the fun revolves around how sexy Kathleen Turner can possibly manage to look in her dirty and ripped outfits (and don't get me started on his buying the sexiest, perfectly sized date outfit), obviously we're not supposed to be questioning reality.
And as the jerkbags over at Netflix failed to get either of my two movies out to me, I'll have to find something else to amuse myself. I'm about to meet Morris (who I know through Mob & K) for drinks at Glorias (home of the most fantastic lethal margaritas ever--for $3 no less), so perhaps it's best I watch something afterwards not involving a lot of concentration...