I blame the ponies.
|No puppet will ever make you cry as hard as this one.|
|Waaaay too violent for my innocent little mind.|
In case you never saw it, or don't remember the live action movie, it was a lot grittier and darker than the cartoon (and yes, someone out there will argue that the original comic is darker and the 80's cartoon is watered down for kids, and blah blah blah -I am not denying this, but that's neither here-nor-there in relation to this story. My story.)
So, with the darker grittier live-action movie, I got a little perturbed. Shredder was real scary-looking angry man, not a silly cartoon with a scratchy voice like Uncle Phil. Splinter was kind of a grody-looking sewer rat, not a furry smiling cartoon. And the turtles were "real" and angsty in my soon-to-be-six year old eyes, not quite as toony and light-hearted. The movie had breathed life into these imaginary characters I loved to watch on TV in the safety of my home. The joy and awe this produced in child-me at first was indescribable, but then things got ugly. In the movie, Raphael is being a punk (as one does) and goes outside in a huff, but then is ambushed by the foot clan. Raph essentially gets the shit kicked out of him by the bad guys. Then he's in a coma in a bathtub for like 3 days! I will repeat this: my favorite turtle, the on-screen-puppeteered-interpretation of the animated being whom I credit with teaching me the basics of snark and sarcasm GOES INTO A COMA FOR 3 DAYS!!! I was six. Now, I was not a worldly child, but I was well-aware that being unconscious in a bathtub is not a good thing. Even for a turtle.
|Sewer good. Bathtub bad.|
Wow. My therapist has her hands full.
So, War Horse was amazing and touching and beautiful, and the 90's may have partially scarred me for life, but what does this have to do with Harvest Moon? Honestly? I haven't a fucking clue. This post sort of ran away from me.
Welcome aboard my train of thought, if you wanna get off, remember to tuck and roll.