2010, Focus Features. Documentary. Directed by Thomas Balmès. Running time: 1 hour 19 minutes. PG for maternal nudity.
Mathew: So, Jill wanted to see this. I wanted to see The A-Team.
Helm: The conniving harlot was trying to turn your mind toward the making of a whelp. She was in heat! I could sense it!
Mathew: She just likes babies. And knock it off with the "harlot" and "in heat" stuff. It's gross.
Helm: You underestimate her at your peril, Mathew. She is a crafty one and t'is clear that her biological clock is now on alarm mode.
Mathew: Dude. We have a movie review to write here. Can we get down to it?
Helm: Cry not for my aid when you find yourself ensared in her tangled web, a babe in each arm and the scent of ripe diapers filling thy notstils.
So, this was a surprisingly good movie. I totally thought it was going to blow and just be like a total chick thing, but it was actually really cool and insightful. I was staggered by the differences in the sociographic circumstances of the various babies and found the cinematography striking and beautiful. I was also impressed by the skillful editing.
Helm: You may persuade the audience that you enjoyed this film for intellectual reasons, but I was with you.
Mathew: What's that supposed to mean?
Helm: You giggled and gooed like a new mother, teats swollen with milk.
Mathew: Teats swollen with milk? Is that a crack about my weight again?
Helm: T'is a commentary on your weight and your womanly attitude. Why could I not have been sent a proper Valhalladrim? Why?
Mathew: Okay, Mr. Macho-Ice-Water-Baby-Hater. Are you saying you didn't enjoy this film?
Mathew: You loved it! Admit it.
Helm: I acknowledge that it was well crafted and keenly observed. But I was horrified to see the kind of soft upbringing applied to the American baby. That kind of mollycoddeling undoubtedly led to the myriad of problems that plague you, Mathew. If that horrifying hag you call a mother had let you crawl around unsupervised in the dirt more often, perhaps you would not now quake so violently at the thought of combat.
Mathew: So, you did love it. Admit it, Helm!
Helm: T'was enjoyable. There, I've said it. But seeing it was still a ploy of that adulterous schemer you call a girlfriend. Did she not spend an inordinate amount of time during the end credits speculating about what a child of your union might look like?
Mathew: She was just goofing around.
Helm: Did she not rattle off an endless list of potential names?
Mathew: Okay, now you're starting to scare me.
Helm: Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Four Flaming Swords.
Five Flaming Swords!!
Helm: You liked this film because you are a baby.
Mathew: You're the baby.
Helm: No, you are the baby.
Mathew: No, you are.