I went and saw Beowulf the other day. And by “went,” I mean that I was forced to see it by two of my friends. Guilt tripped into it, you might say. And yet, it wasn't too much torture. I don't guess.
Let's just say that it could have been worse.
Now, I'm not just ranting about Beowulf in general. I actually had a reason to shun the movie when it first came out. In fact, I was dead-set against watching it with anyone. I didn't want to hear about it, but, if I did, I turned it into a personal vendetta against the monstrosity known as the “sexy” Grendel's mother- aka Angelina Jolie.
In all my years of studying the epic, Grendel's mother never was “sexy.” She was a glob of fat. Even in the later story entitled Grendel, she was worthless in everything but revenge.
So the only thing going through my mind when I watched this movie was hate. Yes, hatred was boiling my mind. It clouded my judgment for the first, oh, fifteen minutes of the movie before I finally started to pay attention.
And then I was entranced. Throughout the movie, I was almost glued to the screen, making comments to my friends about how things were different between the movie and the epic.
The one shining moment came with my wonderful realization- Grendel was speaking Old English! Actual Old English. I was impressed. Beyond impressed. It was like sinking into a sea of wonderful happiness.
Or perhaps I'm being a little too dramatic.
At any rate, I watched the movie, liked it well enough, and when it was over I knew of only two things.
- I would have liked it more if I wasn't an English major who has a slight obsession with Beowulf
- I would have not appreciated it as much if I hadn't seen the movie
