A bone to pick with Coraline

I went to see the quirky, eerie animated feature Coraline the other day. It has a lot of things to recommend it including its wonderful 3D visuals. However, I was chilled to the bone not by the story line but by a minor plot detail that might have escaped most moviegoers as significant—Coraline's parents are garden writers. And two crankier, more pathetic, more overworked, more pilled-up-sweater-wearing, hunchbacked, depressive, misanthropic loners you would never want to see as guardians of an imaginative child. Their barely furnished, rented house is as bleak as their rush to meet their deadline to deliver copy (in person mind you) to a catalog located downtown somewhere. Sad. 
That Hollywood has used my occupation to telegraph dead-end career desperation made me immediately want a new profession. Or maybe I am just oversensitive since all the garden editors I know are losing their jobs...

P.S.  If Coraline's parents are hort experts then why are they planting up their large spring garden entirely with potted tulips in full bloom. Catalogs must pay well. Then again, as my friend Frances advised me, "It's only a movie..."

1 comment:

The Fern and Mossery said...

Ha - I loved it that her sorry parents were garden bloggers that hated to get in the dirt. Very funny.