Curse you, Cameron Crowe.
Curse you for using your subtle humor and outstanding soundtrack-building skills to take a somewhat predictable plot and make me care more than I thought I would about that widow and his brooding teenager and adorable young daughter; about that hot assistant zookeeper and that one guy who looked like an older version of the boy who left home to cover Stillwater (the movie one, not this one); about the brother who drank himself Sideways; and about their stinking zoo.
Curse you, too, to the library from which this movie came. There’s nothing worse than watching a movie, losing yourself in the flow of the story, only to have that story freeze and remain still for minutes at a time while you agonizingly wonder what damage this stupid disc full of mungus is doing to your laser and spinning motor and knowing it will take an extra five to ten minutes to find a place in the movie where it will play again (and where you won’t miss so much of the plot).
So curse you even more, library, for plying us with your sappy discs. Literally. There’s sap on the disc!
But, that’s a little off topic.