Review #17 - 1969 (1988)

From The Bard at Netflix:

"Two college buddies and their families deal with the sad consequences of the Vietnam War. The two small-town teenagers learn through love, death and war what friendship and freedom mean in America. Filled with upheaval and protest, 1969 was the year that split the world apart but brought a generation together."

So, I'm sure you will think this is egocentric and more than a little unbalanced - but I am very possessive and proud of my personal stats. My name is Tina - I love that name. I don't know a lot of other people named Tina. When I do hear about someone else named "Tina", I get irritated that they are using MY name. Even better - my real first name is "Katherina", and NOBODY has that name, baby. All mine.

My birth month is September. September is the perfect month. It's still a little warm, but not too warm, and a little cool, but not too cool. You get to go back to school in September and wear your new school clothes and use your new Pee-Chee. I like the way it sounds when it rolls off your tongue. Say it with me, little chickens. September. That's my month.

My birth date is the 23rd. I am partial to the number 23. I like the way it looks when you write it. It's double digits, which everyone knows is better than a single digit. They even made a movie about the number 23 with Jim Carrey a few years ago. This, of course, is concrete evidence of the superiority of the number 23. My number, baby.

I was born in 1969. Still in the 60's. We went to the moon in '69. We weren't yet in the musically tragic 70's. Bryan Adams sang a song about the Summer of '69, and it was a really cool song, now wasn't it. Being born in 1969 means you grew up in the 80's, and well that was just frickin' awesome.

So....a movie about my year. Must be wonderful, right?

1969 features Kiefer Sutherland channeling Hogwarts with his droopy hair and glasses; Winona Ryder, looking like she has for 20+ years, and RDJR, who portrays a guy named "Ralph". Excuse me, RALPH?

I will pause a moment while we all remember the Cheech and Chong "His name is RALPH, man!" routine.

This average film would be pretty forgettable, were we not in a war in Iraq, and were I not a mother who has had to send her son off to war. There's a scene where Kiefer's brother, a Marine, gets put on a bus by his dad, bound for his deployment to Vietnam. Believe it or not, I almost forgot that I had actually LIVED that scene until it was halfway over. I was sitting here, drinking Diet Dr. Pepper, and thinking - "wow, how hard to let your child go like that." Then the lightning bolt smacks me, and I remember, "hey, you stupid idiot, you did that exact thing not 5 months ago." Which led to the inevitable case of Mommy Guilt.

Of course, the boy comes home in a flag-draped coffin, just like we knew he would. You can probably imagine - that's not a mental picture I wish to dwell upon.

Our hero's memorable moment is when he OD's on LSD and starts flopping around on the floor in his underwear with his eyes rolled back in his head. Actors seem to employ the "eyes rolling back in the head" thing a lot. Whenever I see it, I think "man, that must really, really hurt", as opposed to what I should be thinking about, which is the actual scene.

My review? If it was an essay, I'd give it a C-, so I guess we'll go with a 7. Not a BAD movie, but not terribly GOOD, either. Kinda like generic Jello.