Medusa at Five

So my oldest daughter (Little One, fourth grade) is now full-fledged into Percy Jackson, the Harry Potter stand-in where Greek Mythology replaces Rowlingian magic, wizards and witchcraft. She’s seen both movies and wants to start reading the books. I think. Maybe she’s read one already in school; have to check back on that.

Anyway, the movies are not that bad. Very heavily special-effects laden, which makes them good and fun. Yeah, they give the tired old post-modern treatment to those Grecian myths and legends I loved reading about as a boy. You know, making them hip, flippant, multicultural, relocating everything to the United States. (The entrance to Olympus is at the top of the Empire State Building, for example.) Every female character is a Xena: Warrior Princess type of thing. Still, all in all, the movies are not bad because, well, they’re enjoyable on a juvenile level. Plus they fire up Little One’s curiosity.

And Patch’s, too. She’s my kindergartener. Two weeks ago the wife recorded the original movie, Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief, and we decided to let Patch watch, too. Well, she wanted to see it with her big sister, and when I said that there might be some scary scenes, she solemnly authorized me to put my hands over her eyes when she gets scared.

One truly scary part is the encounter between Percy and his multicultural friends with Medusa (icily played by Uma Thurman). Medusa’s new lair is somewhere in central New Jersey, an hour’s drive from where I live, in what appears to be a gardening and outdoor supply store – there are statues everywhere. Get it?

Well, at the end of the movie, Patch climbs up on the couch, drops her pants and moons us all. “Don’t look at my butt, guys,” she announces, “or you’ll turn to stone!”

We all collapsed in laughter.

These precious moments are what Saturday Monster Movie Matinees at the Hopper are all about!