(Note: To the fans of my sports-related posts, I’m not ignoring that beat—I’m just going to be so distracted until the Pistons re-sign Billups that I’ve got to focus on other things. Bear with me, shouldn’t be more than another day or two.)
I love Nancy Drew. I read all of my mom’s old mysteries when I was younger, sometimes staying in bed for hours to finish one of the yellow-bound volumes in a single sitting! Nancy was smart, resourceful, and self-assured. She had a gorgeous boyfriend (the charming Ned Nickerson), two best friends (plump Bess and sporty George), and a seemingly infallible talent for solving crimes. I admired Nancy’s bravery, envied her independence, and generally wanted to grow up just like the stylish teenager with the “titian hair.”
This summer, Nancy’s back, in her first live-action film. I checked out a matinee yesterday at Gallery Place, and spent much of the delightful 99 minute movie in sheer nostalgic enjoyment. I also got a little scared during some of the more suspenseful moments, which should explain to my friends why I avoid going to see actual horror flicks.
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