My sophomore year of college was an exquisitely terrible time in my life. I had a break-up that lasted for almost an entire year. An entire year of being in a state of breaking up with someone I loved and had thought would be in my life forever. Because I was tortured by this (in that way that only a Scandinavian studies major who is 19-years-old and studying Par Lagerkvist and August Strindberg day in and day out can be tortured), my friends were invited along for the ride and equally tortured by the break-up-that-took-an-entire-year.
Which is why we started Bad Movie Night.
Once a month, a group of us went to the video store in the afternoon and rented three or four movies--the worst we could find. This is why I have seen every movie in the Children of the Corn franchise. The rule was that everyone got one time to call "pause" during the evening and a short pee-break was given between each film. We sat through some of the worst films of all time and in the wee hours of the morning (because movie night did not even begin usually until we were good and drunk at 10 p.m.), we put it to a vote as to who chose the worst film (since everyone brought one to the table) and the winner received a prize, which was usually alcohol related.
One afternoon, the day of movie night, we were wandering through the store, debating whether a slasher film or cheap porn was the worse option (since, you know, choosing the worst film was the point) when we passed through the foreign film section and I took Toto Le Hero off the shelf.
I remember standing in the store while Mike tossed the video around in hands saying, "you are neeeeeeeeever going to win with that one."
I threw the match. I wanted to watch it because the person-of-the-year-long-break-up had watched it with me back in high school and we always sang the Charles Trenet song from it together. Somehow I knew that it was better not to tell everyone that I had seen it before. Why I wanted to see it again. I pretended that I thought it would suck. It was like putting on a sweatshirt from the back of the closet that I had forgotten I owned.
This afternoon, the ChickieNob and I were watching Littlest Pet Shop movies on YouTube (what, you didn't know there is an entire genre of LPS films, as they are called? Grown-ups, making odes to wide-eyed plastic toys) and I typed in Charles Trenet's name, not really expecting to find anything. But here he is, singing my favourite song from the film.
Can you imagine anything more tortuous than a pining 19-year-old Scandinavian studies major listening to a song about love in the middle of a year-long-break-up?
Added: As Jess points out, if you don't speak or read French, this isn't perhaps as amusing (maybe it's not that funny to find Charles Trenet on YouTube even if you do know French) BUT imagine a 19-year-old Melissa, in angst...actually, in ANGST. In all black. Watching this film to torture herself during the year-long-break-up. The misery of all of it. But if you want a translation in English of the song, I found one online. With guitar chords!