Several years ago, walking out of a screening of The Hangover (“Absurd,
Raunchy, Irreverent” according to Netflix), I said to my friend, “Well, that wasn’t
very good.” “What are you talking about?” she replied. “You laughed the entire
movie.” While it is possible that I might have laughed a lot and still not liked the
movie (perhaps the laughs were what we call “cheap laughs”), I was startled. If I
had been alone, I would have walked out of The Hangover firmly believing that I
had not enjoyed it, when apparently, I had enjoyed it tremendously. I like to think
that I know what I like, but this seemingly trivial incident made me wonder how
much I really understand my own taste.
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