Okay, for American types, today is 7-11-11. 7-11 stores, not about to let this date get away from them, are celebrating with free Slurpees, and seeing so many little Slurpees dancing across ad banners has made me a little nostalgic.

The Slurpee was a formative icon of my adolescence, which was riddled with low-grade poor decisions. I didn’t drink coffee when I was in high school, but with a school that started classes at 7am (not counting the time it took to wait for the bus and/or find parking in a nearby suburb and walk, which usually meant arriving by 6:20), and a bedtime of about 2am (I was busy with homework, watching movies, and writing truly awful prose), I needed energy in some form, and there was a 7-11 on the way to school.

Here was my breakfast for most of high school:

GENEVIEVE’S VERY HEALTHY VITAMIN BREAKFAST FOR HIGH SCHOOLERS

- One (1) Medium Coca-Cola Slurpee
- One (1) Fun-Size Bag Shock Tarts

If you are reading this and not making a horrible face right now, you are stronger than I am. Just thinking of eating this repeatedly makes me slightly ill. And it’s not as though I thought this was a legitimate meal at the time, either – I obsessively took care of my teeth, knowing I was basically pouring battery acid on them every 24 hours.

However, this combination was the only way I could get my body to produce enough adrenaline to stay awake during classes, so this was what I had.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, I burned out on both those food items in a major way, and have not had either for the better part of a decade, now. However, that little Slurpee cup is giving me a serious case of worst-breakfast-ever nostalgia.

Up at Fair Food Fight Films this week is Soylent Green, everyone’s favorite pretend-you-saw-it sci-fi potboiler.

Here’s the thing: Soylent Green gets a reputation (rightly) as being one of Charlton Heston’s most insufferable performances in a SEA of insufferable. And the last few minutes, with him bellowing “Soylent Green is made from people,” is one of the top movie twists of all time, delivered so badly that it’s become a punchline for unappetizing foods or movie “surprises” we all saw coming.

I remember seeing this movie as a kid and thinking it was TERRIFYING, but whenever I thought about why I couldn’t really place it, because Sol’s death scene and the final five minutes, which were the parts people kept suggesting to me as the scary ones, didn’t bother me in the slightest.

Sol was treated with more dignity than most people today can hope for, and I thought listening to your favorite music while you die painlessly after a long life was the best possible way to go. And the Soylent thing seemed like a great idea to me. You have limited resources but an abundant source of meat; why the hell wouldn’t you package the nutritious parts? It’s not like people are inedible, or that life in that city is precious. I mean, be real.

On the rewatch, I realized why it was so terrifying – it’s basically a documentary about the future, and even as a kid I must have recognized how easy it was for women to be stripped of their rights (again), for the planet to finally collapse under the weight of overpopulation, for the food supply to just suddenly stop forever.

So yeah, this movie is terrifying, and it’s worth your time despite Charlton Heston being in it. There are so many little things about it that are chilling to see, because it looks straight-up like today’s news. And that’s good social commentary, and it’s fantastic sci-fi.

Check out the full rundown here.

Generally, my movie-watching habits throughout life have been about 70% things I want to see, 30% things I saw under some social obligation. This has no bearing on their quality (obviously – I mean, look at me); it’s just a baseline measurement. And weirdly, it doesn’t change much even after I look at when I started to review movies for real. Sure, I would take back the two hours of my life I spent watching Repo Men (and Legion), but in most movies there is a nice moment, or a grain of truth, or some extra who is clearly overjoyed to be there, and even if not, I love movies enough to sit through a few hundred duds in my lifetime.

However, in the last two weeks or so, I have seen a disproportionate number of movies that are really, truly awful. Some were my fault. One was the fault of the person who won a review in the Carl Brandon auction, and made me watch one of the most unbelievable things ever, which you will hear about next week.

And one of them was No Reservations, which I watched for Fair Food Fight. It was awful, but the worst part is probably this, at a key moment in the third act:

Kate: [indicating kitchen] This is who I am.

Nick: No, it’s not.

…THUMBS UP, EVERYONE.

I handle this in the review (complete with killshot!), but I had to mention it here, just because I hate it so, so much.

I mean, pretty much any way you parse it, that is a loaded little conversation. (Keep in mind this guy is currently in a brand-new relationship with her, one in which he has addressed the problem of workplace authority by saying almost verbatim, “Well, you’ll tell me what to do and I’ll do what I want, just like always,” and it is never discussed again and things actually play out that way. Plus, as I recall, they are having this conversation because he has just been offered her job and is treating her like a ridiculous harpy for being angry at this news.)

But beyond that (and as also discussed in the review), it’s probably more than a little disingenuous to pretend that “chef” is the sort of job you try to rise above, rather than an actual Personage you hope to become, and that for a chef to say that about the kitchen is actually a statement of fact and career accomplishment, not some sort of romantic hangup to be overcome by some coworker you barely know who shows up on your doorstep late at night demanding you eat this unknown substance he made…while you’re blindfolded.

Needless to say, my plan for this weekend will be heavy on movies I actually WANT to see. (Suspect Awesome British Actor Camp will feature heavily.)

So, today’s Fair Food Fight Film is Chocolat!

This one seems to be a love-it-or-hate-it movie: either you love it for being gentle and comforting, or you hate it for being predictable and treacly. I don’t have a dog in this fight whatsoever, mainly because this movie is so useful for Supporting Actor Bingo that I’m just pleased it got made because now I can get from Nina Foch to Miranda Richardson like THAT.

I will, however, put up a fight that Chocolat is a great food movie, because food plays such a main role that it’s hardly even a metaphor any more; without any of the conflict in which chocolate plays a part, you’d still have a perfectly good short film about a lady in a snappy cloak who comes to town and makes awesome goodies in a big gorgeous montage of mole sauce and hot chocolate and almond cake, and the village loves everything and parties forever, the end.

Plus, I’m just a sucker for a nice mise-en-scene every once in a while.

Johannes Vermeer, Juliette Binoche with Milk Pitcher, 1658

Just saying.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I really like talking about movies. Fair Food Fight also noticed, and asked me if I would be interested in starting a blog series there, reporting (and snarking) on food in film. Don’t have to ask me twice!

Welcome to Fair Food Fight Films, awesomely abbreviated FFFFilms, which sounds like you’re about to cuss if you say it out loud, so that’s not recommended unless you say all the words. It will cover food in movies, from those which are entirely about food (like Big Night) to those that simply use food in world-building (Chicken goooood).

For the initial offering, the clear front-runner was Babette’s Feast. It’s about food, it’s about food as metaphor, and more than anything, it’s about a village full of the most emotionally constipated, ungrateful folk you’ll ever find.

I mention this more over at Fair Food Fight, but it bugged me so much I’m laying it down here, too; there’s a huge “art doesn’t require gratitude” theme in this movie hammered home by poor Babette slaving away in the kitchen and never hearing word one about how delicious it was. I completely understand, cinematically, why it was there. But I was also raised that you thank the person who cooked the meal, even if you can’t bear the idea of gnawing the head off the guinea fowl up there and end up eating nothing but puff pastry and gravy with one eye closed. It’s just manners, metaphorically-saturated village people, damn!