Ann has been holding this movie over my head for months, saying it would be a test of my ability to reconcile my masculinity with our marriage. I was dreading it. So when it finally arrives I propose getting it over with quickly, like pulling climbing tape off when it’s stuck to your armhair. As it turns out, the movie isn’t quite what Ann remembers from sixth grade. The adults in the movie spend most of their camera time getting ripped. The boyfriend is a jerk and seems destined for a life of dumpster diving. The dad aspires to pulling his own plow on the farm to develop his mule-like stubbornness. The trainer seems to enjoy cracking down on little girls more than skating. It’s sort of a modern-day Dickens story. I ended up enjoying it, both the movie and Ann’s re-experience of it. Ok, so there were some warm fuzzies too, but I couldn’t tell if that was coming from the movie or from us.