‘ I have finally found it.’ Even as I speak, there’s a flutter, a blush, a thrill. Triumph surging through my veins, I stand firm and glare surely (think Nicolas Cage) into the abyss of time, safe with the knowledge that I have found It. The One. That indelible understanding between me and the world. A height from which to judge all others: Truth.’ In other words, I have found The Worst Movie Ever.’ I admit there are flaws with this statement. Obviously, my experience with film is greatly limited. However, being the pretentious, naive 21-year-old which the college experience lovingly crafted me into, this lack of comprehensive knowledge has never prevented me from drawing huge, overly simplistic, probably inaccurate, and achingly satisfying generalizations. Ah, World. I look forward to the crushing ravages that you, Time, and Experience will eventually wreak upon a young ego gorged on the fat of purely theoretical observations.’ Until then:’ For a long time I thought I might have had it. When ‘There’s Something About Mary’ and ‘Superstar’ came out, I was stunned by the absolute idiocy of both. Amazed at the popularity. Baffled that someone had voluntarily given large sums of money to someone else in an effort to create such monumentally dumb wastes of time. However, the years have blurred it, and I, like all members of the 18-and-over demographic, harbor a healthy distrust of the opinions of children (one of which I, at the time, was). And besides, who am I to criticize something for being ‘dumb?’ I who ‘- I admit it! – enjoyed train wrecks like ‘Superbad,’ ‘X-Men Origins: ‘ Wolverine,’ and ‘Ninja Assassin.’ Some stuff is meant to be mindless entertainment. I’d like to pretend I only watch highly cognitive movies directed by people like Ingmar Bergman and David Lynch. But sometimes I need a little dumb. I’m not here to debate it or to defend it ‘- that’s dangerous territory. So, genres aside, I revived my search with vigor.’ I should have known I would eventually find it on an airplane, grossly miscategorized as ‘in-flight entertainment’ on a particularly unpleasant six-hour ride, sitting next to a man who, despite all of society’s rules urging otherwise, insisted on removing his shoes, joyously letting his foot odors to blossom in the poorly ventilated cabin.’ It was not an ideal situation.’ Perhaps some will suggest that such conditions could possibly result in a biased approach toward the film at hand.’ They would be wrong. ‘Motherhood,’ starring Uma Thurman, was so ridiculous (and annoying) that at some points I thought it was a parody of the motherhood-movie genre. It followed ex-writer-turned-martyr-wife Eliza as she putters about being a stressed-out mom, while her voice-overs make pretentious, indignant and self-pitying comments about her unstimulating life as a stay-at-home mom.’ It’s a totally legitimate subject. What’s annoying about the movie is that Eliza is a whiny, self-important baby. Her oft-complained-about husband actually seems pretty receptive, helpful and understanding. Her ‘stress’ centers around the fact that she’s throwing her six-year-old a birthday party. This, of course, means going to the store, juggling baskets of goody bags that need to be made, and putting up decorations. Not to mention getting the cake, where they spelled her daughter’s name wrong, and getting into a goodly number of unpleasant encounters with mean ol’ New Yorkers.’ I’ve never been a mother, but it seems like some of this could have been done not on the same day as the party.’ Don’t get me wrong; I know motherhood is really, really hard. But this movie does not make it seem so. It makes moms seem whiny. Unappreciative. Conceited. Unorganized. And Eliza’s stupid pouting about her tearless kids, her bitching and freak-outs about easily fixable situations even though she has a helpful husband, a West Village apartment, and the luxury of going shopping with her best friend in the middle of such a supposedly busy day, gets even more ridiculous. I can’t even say how Eliza’s ‘I’m an Intellectual’ tone (‘The view from your windows is so poetical’) and self-pitying insistence on herself as a martyr was just the obnoxious cherry on top of a lot of crap that does so much injustice to the moms out there that really do struggle.’ Luckily, on my connecting flight they played something good. Thank God for ‘Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs.’ Am I right?’ Love, Natalie.’ P.S. Before removing shoes in airplane, please check for odors.’ ‘ ‘- Natalie Schack can be reached at [email protected].