Niamh and Ciarra are nasty. Like they would eat your children if they were in a room long enough with them. But nothing says nasty, like putting on a film, and while your slightly emotional sister is watching it, not letting her sneak off to bed when the sad bit is coming, and watching her cry. I am that slightly emotional sister.
Firstly I should rewind a little. I like films. I like them like Niamh and Ciarra like watching me cry. My favorite film would be Pearl Harbour. I understand that people dislike this film. Okay so the acting is bad and the story is a little boring (the romance bit). I suppose one would say that the action scenes were a tad unrealistic. I assume you could go as far to say that the cliches make it unbearable. But despite all that, you should seriously sit there and watch the film of a night when you are tired. Pretty dresses, an exciting bit half-way through and cheesy monologues usually found only in adaptions of Nicholas Sparks books, you will love it.
The only problem with Pearl Harbour, is the ending. If you have seen the film, you will know. If you haven't, imagine the emotion of Titanic mixed with the cheesy script of The Notebook, but the backdrop is Tora! Tora! Tora! Congrats - for you have just imagined Pearl Harbour the movie.
I remember not long after we had moved into this house, and my (read: Niamh's) DVD collection was missing this certain piece of cinematic genius. She had seen the film not long after it came out, but I hadn;t. At eleven, three hour films were people talk bored me. So one afternoon, when the film had just started Niamh let's out a evil cackle before declaring she was watching it. I would have been happy to watch the last half an hour, but was ready to leave when the title rolled on and I realized that we had three hours of this film left.
"Sit down," Niamh shouts. No, hissed. She hissed it. Like a cat would hiss at a dog that had pooped in the street. Scared for my life, I sat.
The film was good, but I was around thirteen and at that age I appreciated the joy of a romance film. Not to mention, I had accidentally watched A Walk To Remember that morning, which was so unbelievably cute. The film was good, in my opinion. So when it came to it, Niamh snakes of to her room. I watched the end of the film. About twenty minutes later, when I am drenched in a lake of my own tears and making a weird crying noise, Niamh struts into the room, closely followed by her minion (that's Ciarra). For the remainder of the film I cried. When I had managed to calm down, there was another bit that made me cry, and when I started again, they laugh like they have just won some lump sum of money. It was that day I realized that there is no end to the evil measures Niamh and Ciarra will go to.
I manage to do this thing these days, when the film is around half way through I will flop my head around a little, eventually pretending to doze on the couch before Niamh kicks me and sends me to bed. No tears. No laughing. No worries.
Then there was Camp Rock 2. Camp Rock 1, which is what it will be called from here on in, didn't make me cry. I mean I loved it and everything, but there were no tears. For reasons I can't quirt remember, not three days after my birthday, in my brand new birthday pajamas I cried like I have never cried at a film before. Mid-breakdown Ciarra comes to watch the end of the films. I switched from the usual crying to the silent crying, which I don't like because I get a sore throat and a aching tummy. Then they lose, and then the silent crying was out of the window. To make it worse, I didn't think she was going to say anything about it when she left the room. About thirty seconds later she came back, with Niamh. While I watched the end of the film, they watched me.
But Ciarra and Niamh have both cried at films before know. Ciarra barely counts. She was about five when we watched Free Willy, which was one of Niamh's favorites. At the end, when they start to drain the water from the tank, with gallons rushing out per second and leaving poor Willy knocking on death's door at the bottom of the tank, Ciarra started crying the loudest cry in the world. I have known nothing like it. The best part of this saga was when mum burst in the room. She thought we had knocked over a glass of water. God knows how much water she thought the glasses in our house contained.
Niamh's is a little more complicated. No one was there when it happened. We don't speak of it, because she always brings up the most embarrassing thing she can think whoever bring it up has done. I should explain, she watched this only a month after her dog had died, which she had owned since she was about eight. Oh yes, she watched Marley and Me. Niamh isn't emotional in anyway, but when I noticed it was recorded, she told me about her crying. When I put it on, she threw a cup at me. The cup had tea in. I have scars to prove this. I mean Marley and Me is a little different to Free Willy, Pearl Harbour and Camp Rock 2, but she cried. At least we know she has a heart and not a swinging brick.
Ciarra is on holiday and mum and dad are out. She is threatening to make me watch Hatchi.
So until next time, I can only suggest that you watch the films mentioned. Okay, maybe not Free Willy, but the others are good.
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