When Alex and I were walking out of Stranger Than Fiction earlier this afternoon, he confessed: “I was tired this morning and I somehow thought you meant Strangers With Candy, even though it hasn’t been out in a long time.” Heh.

The latter would have been one of a handful of less appropriate movies to take a couple of under-12-year-old kids to. I mean, it’s rated G — there’s like, one cuss-word and one scene with some decidedly non-sexual old guy butts in a locker room — but there’s nothing that would scar a child for life. But: it’s a movie about an IRS agent who finds his life being narrated by a literary novelist, and seeks help from a crusty university professor. I’m not saying this because children need to be protected, I’m saying this because paying movie theatre patrons need to be protected. From children. The heads of whom the entire film is going over.* You know you’re in trouble when, five minutes in, one whispers, from a seat away “Is this commercial going to be over soon?” and the other whispers back, “No, this is the movie.”

That said, the reason that kids wouldn’t like it was: it was smart. Alex and I both walked out raving about the art direction. The sets were all ordinary places: university professor’s office, IRS cubicle farm, hipster bakery, nerd’s apartment. But the set dressing was so carefully chosen and richly detailed: the book with a yellow “Used” sticker on the professor’s shelf near his TV, the Food Not Bombs poster on the cluttered bulletin board at the bakery, the nerdily tasteful ’60s-futuristic-modernist furniture in Tony Hale’s apartment. It made the fact that Will Ferrell’s apartment looked like a bad hotel, in 1980, even more telling. (Because he is a literary character.) The IRS file room had that big white endless thing, like in The Apartment.

Also, it was one of the best-shot movies I’ve seen all year. There’s this fantastic scene, where Will Ferrell’s sitting in the “joint seat” on a double-length bus, and he runs into Maggie Gyllenhaal on the bus, and they’re kind of flirting, and it’s basically just a shot-reverse shot set up, but it’s on a weave-y bus, so it looks really cool.

Furthermore, the acting was great. I always love to see Ms. Gyllenhaal, and Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman are always both great, but Will Ferrell really surprised me: I knew he was funny, but I didn’t know he could create a character this…quietly. I don’t want to give anything away, but he manages to convey a lot with toothbrushing, though he doesn’t say anything. (Granted, the narrator does say stuff, but because of how the whole narrator device works in the film, it works.)

Anyway, since I’ve been raving about every aspect of it for a good three paragraphs, I think you’ve gotten my point. I really loved this movie. More evidence in its favour: there were cookies in it, and also, Tony Hale! It’s nice to see high-concept done right.

When we got home, I made my classic back-of-the-chocolate-chip-bag cookies. Alex needed something to bring for a work potluck, and I needed an excuse to make chocolate chip cookies, which have to be the most relaxing thing to bake. You can stir a lot without worrying, the dough tastes good, and they make the whole house smell good. I was adding my dry ingredients to my creamed butter and sugar mixture while Alex sat at his computer, Danielson playing on iTunes, uploading pictures from his camera phone.

“…Did you take pictures of your [clothed] boobs?”

“Hah! Oh yeah. You were sleeping, I thought I’d surprise you.”

“That’s very nice, dear.”

Life is good. I only have a few more papers to grade, a presentation to write up, and two term papers to write. In the next two weeks. Oy.

*Most awkward sentence ever.