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Forget Wonder Woman. THIS 1984 B-movie rock opera is the nostalgia-fest we all need right now.
You have to understand that my family went into Wonder Woman 1984 on Christmas Day with high hopes. We love movies, especially a good, traditional Jewish Christmas Day movie watching, and my almost-seven-year-old, especially, adores Wonder Woman. Blame my own childhood nostalgia. A few months ago, I bought her one of those old brown Fisher Price tape decks and a lot of tapes off Ebay. The belt (which the seller had replaced with a hair tie) needed replacing almost immediately, and it still hisses, but the moment I got it working she lugged it off to her room.
“I love it, Mom,” she said, closing her door on me to tuck herself in with a book-on-tape of Fisher-price Presents Wonder Woman: The Cheetah on the Prowl, “I feel like a teenager.”
Apparently, what teenagers do is listen to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Coming Out of Their Shells Tour and the aforementioned Wonder Woman tape ad nauseum every night before bed. Suddenly, my child — who previously had only imbibed comic book culture through DC Super Hero Girls, could tell you all about Steve Trevor, the real Princess Diana, and the Cheetah.
