Lo came over last night to watch Swiss Miss’ movie, a horrifying look at bad filmmaking which I’ve agreed to write about for SFist, and it was so wrong, it actually prompted us to dig through my old VHS tapes looking for a better alternative.
After considering Varsity Blues, Home Alone 2 and Fried Green Tomatoes, we settled on the Joy Luck Club.
“Oh my god, I have the Joy Luck Club.”
“Yes! Awesome! I love this movie.”
“Seriously. Me too. I’m obsessed with it.”
Maybe it’s a chick thing. Maybe it’s a San Francisco thing. But there is an underground Joy Luck Club obsession that’s been going on for years. We’ve even got our own language. For example, if your girlfriend says to you, “Why you pay for his ice cream?” That means that your boyfriend is making you do shit you don’t want to do. Also, if someone tells you that “you take best quality crab,” it’s a dig.
It means you have worst quality heart.
Anyway, we happily switched from Swiss Miss to the Joy Luck Club and let me tell you, I could watch this movie twice a day for the rest of my life, it’s so good.
After our earlier screening, we just kept saying over and over, “Now, this. This is a fucking movie.”
Lo, in a stroke of brilliance also pointed out that the Joy Luck Club is Steel Magnolias for Chinese People.
Um, yeah. It totally is.
Find me a gay man who loves Steel Magnolias and I’ll show you someone who squeals at the mention of Joy Luck Club.
We were in heaven the entire time, adoring this fabulous movie we’d already seen 50 times before. As we sat in the dark, watching Joon’s mom abandon her babies on the wartorn roadside, Lo gasped.
“Oh my god. I wouldn’t even do that to my cats.”
If you were heading to the Asian American Film Festival just to see Swiss Miss, I’d skip it, get Chinese take-out and stay home to revisit the Joy Luck Club. And when you get to the scene where Rose totally goes ape-shit at Andrew McCarthy and sits in the rain talking nonsense, think of me because I cannot watch it without sitting on the floor, messing up my hair and reciting the entire thing…
You're not taking my house, you're not taking my daughter, you're not taking any part of me, because you don't know who I am. I died sixty years ago. I ate opium and I died for my daughter's sake. Now get out of my house!