I Finally Watched "The Godfather"

Parts I and II, a couple of weeks ago, largely at Mike's urging.

I know, I know. You're shocked. You're appalled. You're wondering how it's possible this otherwise normal, red-blooded American male lived nearly 33 years without experiencing these universally acclaimed, ubiquitously influential cinematic masterpieces. It's a completely valid question – especially considering that these films have been readily available to me since Mike and I merged movie collections almost four years ago.

I have nothing to say for myself. I'm the sorry thirty-something cad who opted for dozens of repeat-viewings of Billy Madison before bothering to watch The Godfather even once. It was a life choice I was doomed to regret.

Indeed, the list of masterpiece films that have eluded me over the years is shameful. I've still never seen Casablanca, 2001: A Space Odyssey, or Tootsie, to name a few of the titles I'm assured are must-sees. I've caught only bits and pieces of the LOTR trilogy (another beloved saga collecting dust on my DVD shelf at this very moment). I may never watch a Matrix movie (which I'm somehow okay with). And many have been dumbfounded to learn that the only Barbra Streisand movie I've ever seen is Meet the Friggin' Fockers. (Here are my gay-credentials. You'll be wanting to revoke these). 
 

So why now? What is it that finally nudged me into the essential cinematic rite-of-passage that is viewing The Godfather? I can't say, exactly. Maybe it's because I'm about to turn 33 and am beginning to feel a little short on life accomplishments. (At this age, Jesus was already a skilled craftsman, a medical-miracle worker, an innovator in winemaking, and a long-haired guru ready to be martyred for his hippie convictions. I figure I've got some catching up to do). Or maybe it was just another planned milestone in Mike's ongoing quest to mold me into a better, more well-rounded individual ("You should really eat more vegetables, volunteer for a non-profit, and watch the Godfather movies, Dan"). I don't know, really. I suppose it was just my time. 

So how do I feel now that I'm "in the club"? Well, to be honest, roughly the same as I did before. It's been a couple weeks, and I'm still waiting for the whole "these movies changed my life" moment to kick in. (After all the hype, I expect nothing less). This is not to say I didn't enjoy my Godfather viewings. I enjoyed them a lot, as a matter of fact. It was six-plus hours of my life very well spent. And, as is usually the case with great cinema, I get the sense that they will only improve with repeat-viewings. So I'll be looking forward to that. 

But there was also a sort of "I've seen this all before" quality to the experience. After decades worth of pop-culture references, quotes, spoofs, parodies, and Godfather-inspired films and TV (one only needs to watch The Simpsons, really), it was virtually impossible not to already recognize most of the movies' signature moments and indelible dialogue. But the fact that I was surprised by so little in these films is surely a testament to their lasting impact and far-reaching influence. 

So now that I've fully cultured myself, and closed this embarrassing gap in my film-viewing history, what's my next move? I suppose it's time to watch The Godfather Part III, no? I'm told by some that it's entirely miss-able, and by others that it's unfairly underrated. But by all accounts, it falls well short of its predecessors. Perhaps I'll just save that one for a rainy day (no shortage of those where I live), and maybe catch up on a few of my other overlooked classics first. I've seen the important ones, and finally initiated myself into High Godfather Society. I am indeed proud of myself. 

And with this important accomplishment now securely under my belt, I feel justified in recommending – insisting, in fact – that you reflect on the cinematic merits of The Godfather while considering the thought-provoking exchange below:

Supershoes!

A few weeks ago, I purchased what I thought was an unassuming, mild-mannered pair of new sneakers:

Nothing to see here, folks

But before long, I began to notice something strange about my purchase. With every step, a slight tugging sensation and odd popping noise emanated from the bottom of each shoe. Upon closer inspection, I uncovered the source of these anomalies, and with it, the shocking secret identity of my new kicks.

You see, while examining the shoes, I discovered an array of strategically placed, subtly concave dimples pressed into each sole. How unusual, I thought. For some reason, my new sneakers seemed to be equipped with what can only be described as suction cups:

So much for shoe that don't suck

But I guess this explains the "popping" sounds

Now, why on earth would an ordinary-looking pair of sneakers come with suction-cupped soles? There can only be one possible explanation. My new shoes are ... wait for it ... SUPERSHOES!!!

I mean, what other purpose could such high-utility footwear have? Clearly, these sneakers were designed for gravity-defying feats like scaling walls, walking on ceilings, and clinging to high skyscraper windows – you know, the ususal tricks for fighting crime and avenging the wrongs of evildoers everywhere.

And what better disguise for a dynamic duo of Supershoes than as the everyday sneakers of a dorky, homebody blogger with decidedly casual fashion sense?

My finest blogging attire

Of course. It all makes sense now.

I can only assume that the person who dons these Supershoes is meant to be a dashing crusader for peace and justice. And with this charge comes the duty to steadfastly guard the shoes' secret power, lest they fall into the hands of some comically twisted supervillain bent on total world domination. (Not so fast, Bieber!)

So how I ended up with them is a complete mystery. I mean, my idea of a "hero" usually involves a foot-long roll and extra cheese. I've probably committed more crimes in these shoes than I've prevented. (What can I say? I like to jaywalk). And the whole "eternal struggle between good and evil" thing? Well, I just deal with that by not voting Republican. (No special sneakers required).

Nevertheless, it is an honor and a privilege to have these Supershoes gracing my less-than-super feet. I may not be the caped crime fighter for whom they were intended. And I may only wear them while avoiding danger, rather than seeking it out. But as long as they're in my care, these spiffy new sneaks are sure to see plenty of exciting, walking-to-the-donut-shop action, and are destined for the sedentary glory of an amateur-blogger way of life.

So keep up the good fight, my amazing, brave Supershoes. I salute you!

Up, up, and away!