MY “MY OCTOPUS TEACHER’S” TEACHER IS MY TEACHER

Recently, I watched the movie “My Octopus Teacher” and hated it so much. I told my teacher. Just flat out said it, in the middle of class, didn’t even raise my hand or nothing, just shouted: “Yo, Teach!” like a goddamn Saturday morning cartoon, “My Octopus Teacher Effing SUCKS!” and my teacher said “No. Actually, it does not.”

Learning that “My Octopus Teacher” is not a bad movie was a process, to say the least. It didn’t happen overnight. In fact it took one whole year, the entire lifespan of an Octopus, which is a fact I learned from the movie that used to make me go: “ZZZZ BORING!” but now makes me go: “Aww that’s actually so super sad.” See how much I have learned?!?!

Even though at first I was pretty stubborn in my hatred of this movie, My “My Octopus Teacher” teacher never gave up on me, just like how the son of the White South African filmmaker never gave up on him. I really hate movies with pervy man characters and the White South African Filmmaker (who is really just Mark Vicente from The Vow before he found Keith Ranieri, [even My “My Octopus Teacher” Teacher agrees on that one]) is a bonafide perv. It was clear to me that he was dealing with the marital problems he talks about at the beginning of the movie by cheating on his wife and having sex with an Octopus! Gross! The man-on-octopus sex scenes were a totally pushed aside story arc and something My “My Octopus Teacher” Teacher and I fought about on a regular basis.