If you know me at all, you’ll know that Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is my favorite movie of all time. It is also my family’s favorite movie of all time. I love this movie with every ounce of my being.
I love Bill S. Preston Esquire and Ted “Theodore” Logan and their adorable, yet manly, bromance. I love Ted’s crazy hair and Bill’s belly shirts. I love the script (“Strange things are afoot at the Circle K…”). I love George Carlin as the time-traveling, phone-booth-riding Rufus. I love the Wyld Stallyns. I love the soundtrack (“Two Heads are Better Than One,” anyone?). I love Joan of Arc jazzercising at the mall and Napoleon at the water park (aptly called Waterloo). I love everything about this movie. Everything.
I do not, however, love the ill-fated cartoon or the sequel-that-will-not-be-named. In fact I hate them. There are some movies that exist in and of themselves and require no further embellishment. They are perfect and complete. They will forever occupy that place in our hearts devoted to nostalgia. And no one should mess with nostalgia.
I thought the cartoon and the sequel-that-will-not-be-named were tragedies.
But then there’s this.