I’ve been stressing about how to handle the delicate subject matter within The Invention of Lying. One might assume based on marketing, that the new Ricky Gervais* film is merely a clever romantic comedy jam-packed with amusing cameos and self-deprecating humor, but it’s so, so much more. In fact, you so, so might walk out of the theater, even, and that’s because the Jim Carrey-esque premise is actually an excuse to wax philosophic about human nature.

And you may not be thrilled with some of the conclusions.

Let’s cover the less controversial ones first! Delay the inevitable! OK, so in the world Mark (Gervais) lives in, nobody has ever lied. Ever! And because it’s never happened, they can’t even fathom the concept. For some reason this also causes them to speak their minds at times when they should shut their traps, and I’m not sure if that’s just for the sake of comedy (imagine a waiter handing you your drink and letting you know that he took a sip on the way over) or if it’s our sense of well-intentioned deceit that we DON’T say exactly what we’re thinking.

It’s interesting to think about. Dumpy, depressed Mark is really into Anna (Jennifer Garner), who is not only beautiful but, we’re told, is also an angel inside. This is a little hard to swallow sometimes, because that woman sure thinks some shallow things – people wearing glasses (??) sitting on a park bench are “losers” and she can’t be with Mark simply because he’s not attractive enough to provide her with pretty kids. Even “I’m just not attracted to you and it’s important that I’m physically into a guy that I’m with” would have been better than “Beautiful genes are the most important thing to me, sorry.” It seems as if the writers (Gervais and Matthew Robinson) believe that in our world, Anna would be a perfect female specimen because she'd be keeping judgmental stuff to herself. I find that a little difficult to swallow.

However, the comparison of Truth World to Real World reveals a lot of things, usually humorously, occasionally poignantly, and sometimes shockingly. For instance, without lies, movies really blow. Fiction, you see, was never invented. Advertising’s purpose is to remind consumers that a product exists and to plead them to buy it. Life in general is a little drab, and the ability to lie is a good thing. That suicidal guy in your building would probably be relieved if you told him that everything was going to turn around for him one day. A part of a doctor’s bedside manner is largely based, we now see, on half-truths and hopeful expressions. We tend to think of lying as a bad thing, but Gervais and Robinson make it very clear that in certain situations, we do each other a disservice when we tell the truth. Or, at least, the truth as we see it.

All right, the time has come for me to grit my teeth and go for it, here. A huge part of this movie is about how religion is a lie. Mark develops the ability to say things that aren't true, and as a result can convince anyone to do anything he wants. This includes telling his dying mother that the terrifying eternity of nothingness that is her death staring her in the face will actually be a lot more pleasant than she thinks. It’ll be a place where you’ll go on living forever, he says. Where you can have your own mansion, and everybody you love will be there waiting for you. To Mark, the relieved look on her face as she finally passes away is worth the deception, but the unintended consequence is that the hospital staff members who overheard are very, very interested in this whole afterlife idea. Within 24 hours, he’s mobbed by an entire planet that has obviously been oppressed by the fear of death and is desperate to hear that there is something more to life than this. Under enormous pressure, he sits down at his desk and invents religion. The effects are hilarious and eye-opening. Or a little infuriating, depending on your views.

I figure there are enough movies with religious undertones that a blatantly (and literally) agnostic film shouldn’t cause any riots, especially since the movie as a whole is consistently both uproariously funny and sweetly touching. But who knows, maybe knowing about the subject matter before buying tickets will help those who may not agree to accept that this is one point of view and will allow them to sit back and enjoy the writing. And if they can’t, maybe they’ll just opt to see something else instead. Either way, you can’t say I didn’t tell you the truth.

*...whose position in the rom-com world is rising to a surprising prominence, don't you think?

No, for real. She is a very small, very bubbly woman, with wiry, superhuman strength, and I got an email from her the other day that said "Shane Victorino is my favorite person!!!!!!" and I know from experience that that many exclamation points mean business. Now that she's retired, baseball is more important to her than ever, and she will describe an entire evening's game play by play if you let her, which I do, when I want to get the attention off of me and why I haven't called her in a month. So I check out ESPN.com for times and dates of playoff games, and then my Dodgers-fan husband and I (also in my mom's email was the line "I'm going to have to have a little chat with Cam about his taste in baseball teams!!!!!!!!!!") sit back and enjoy the rare moments in our life together when we have tension about sports. It's like fighting except that while we are yelling at each other, we can watch TV and eat popsicles at the same time...and no one's feelings ever really get hurt.

This is the kind of sport I like. It's the only one I ever really grew up watching, and the only one I really understand, try as I might to decode football. I like the pace, slow and calculated, and I like how consistently terrible everyone's facial hair is -- how I'm so utterly thrilled with a guy who can hit a ball well despite his wagging, sculpted, chin-beard. But one of the biggest reasons that I drift towards the bearded chins this time of year is that baseball has been crafted into an even more glorious slice of old-timey Americana by the zillions of quality movies that attempt to capture the spirit, etc. And when the series is over, and the Phillies stomp back home victorious, my mom is really going to need something to watch to keep her out of the valley of post-baseball depression. Here, ball fans, is my prescription:

Eight Men Out (1988) (directed by John Sayles) - I admit, I've never seen this one, but my pal and RVANews contributor Sean Patrick Rhorer announced tonight that he had been an extra in this film about the Chicago Black Sox's infamous fall from grace. While combing IMDB excitedly for his name, just now I remembered why I would be so willing to take this movie on faith and assume it was good enough to exist in the baseball pantheon. Why, the names of people who played ball in the 'Teens of course! Charlie Sheen as Oscar "Hap" Felch! James Read as Claude "Lefty" Williams! Clifton James as Charles "Commie" Comiskey! I didn't make this up! Plus, John Sayles is a reputable director, so I'm adding this to my queue. And we can go from there to...

Field of Dreams (1989) (directed by Phil Alden Robinson) - This one hardly needs an introduction, but it might be a neat follow-up to Eight Men Out, and definitely deserves a re-watch, no matter how many times you've already seen it. Plus, the impassioned monologue of James Earl Jones's in which he keeps intoning "BBasebball," with heavy consonants, like a gong, will remind you why you're on this crazy quest to begin with.

Bull Durham (1988) (directed by Ron Shelton) - And we're back to Kevin Costner, but this time he's a little washed up maybe (up for debate) and Susan Sarandon expertly wrangles Tim Robbins, the hotshot new pitcher into submission. The South! The 80s! Minor leagues! Crackerjack! Is it my childhood???

A League of Their Own (1992) (directed by Penny Marshall) - Women get a foot in the door with this early 1990s classic about an all-female pro-baseball league during World War II. I just watched this again recently and am pleased to report that it's held up well in the last 16 years. Madonna is still saucy, Geena Davis is still forthright, and it's still hilarious when Tom Hanks yells, "There's no crying in baseball!"

The Natural (1984) (directed by Barry Levinson) - One of my favorite movies of all time and the best baseball movie ever. Robert Redford is Roy Hobbs, who restarts his career as an aging ball player and navigates the crooked world of 1930s baseball with just a touch of magical realism. The only hitch to this film is that the score -- like so many other nostalgic sports films -- was composed by Randy Newman, the uncommon idol of like everybody I know, for some reason. And though I would so love to tell them that the score ruins the film...sigh, it's the exact opposite. It's a score to end all scores and ices a well-made cake with a layer of high quality, not-too-sweet strawberry buttercream frosting, my favorite. I've been close to getting the insignia from Roy Hobbs's bat (aka Wonder Boy) tattooed on my arm a number of times (if I end up doing it and you see me around, we can exchange knowing looks). Like Field of Dreams, The Natural and Bull Durham are also works of elegant filmmaking, which the 1990s tended to forget clean about. It's difficult to follow this movie with anything other than a good cry and some hot chocolate, so here is where your journey ends. If you're not cured, repeat once from the beginning.

If only there had existed a number of seriously good Olympic-themed movies that could have carried you over your post-Phelps moodiness, eh? Cool Runnings spliced with the beach volleyball scene from Top Gun doesn't really cut it, does it? Instead, you just perched on the edge of your bathtub, stretching your arms out, checking out your wingspan in the bathroom mirror, ready to make a colossal mistake. Major League Baseball Postseason 2008 doesn't have to be that way. Let's get it out of our systems.

2. "Filmy" is the new "foodie." I just made it up, and I'm counting on you guys to spread this trend the way that we spread Peace Frogs in the early 90s.

3. I'm moving to a new URL (although the old one will still forward to it), so when one of your friends is like "What's that new Jamie Foxx film all about? I wonder if it's good!" you can change your snooty response of "Clearly you do not frequent http://stompnshout.blogspot.com" to a more concise "WWW.MISANTHROPICREVIEW.COM, EINSTEIN!" (Also please update any links you might have! And if you don't have links, you should totally make some!) OK awesome!

I'm so mad about the Netflix note email things that I wrote Netflix a note email OF THEIR OWN. Well, I guess I write them on a pretty regular basis. I have this weird fantasy that I'm one of their oldest and best customers and that I sit in a mansion on a hill, owning Netflix Town, and that when I talk, they listen. I'm basing this on the fact that the Friends feature itself was my idea, not to mention the multiple queues idea. Also I got them to carry my boyfriend's band's DVD.

Anyway, I hate the fact that all of my friends think I'm an overly enthusiastic loser (or maybe are just reminded of that fact) because now they assume I'm just sending them each specific little notes about everything via email. Granted, they could have just assumed that this was just created as part of their many email subscription options and assigned as a default and that they could just go on and change it, but the beauty of Netflix is that you shouldn't have to assume much. It's ridiculously easy to use.

As a result, my boyfriend believes that my roommate and I are going through a "Gremlins phase"* because both of us inadvertantly filled his email inbox with our thoughts about the movie, which we just watched. Netflix is putting my relationship in jeopardy.

Here's how to turn off the emails and be my friend again.

*I kind of am, though. I'm writing a review that will be posted shortly.

Update: I couldn't deal with the Lowbrow Review, so I'm back to basics. I choose the header over labels.