A Comment on the movie Big.

It's finals week, and I am almost finished with the semester. I have one exam left, so in keeping with tradition, I am watching movies on cable to prepare for it. I was enjoying this a lot, until a moment ago. I was preparing some spaghetti for my lunch (I'm loading up on carbs to get ready for this half-marathon I'm running this weekend) when I heard some tinkly, ultra-sensitive sounding, new-age style piano music coming the television. I knew without looking what it was. It was the scene in Big where the ten-year-old boy in a man's body has sex with a grown woman.
How the hell did that ever get into a mainstream Hollywood movie? And in such a particularly creepy way. There's no real evidence that the makers of the movie really considered the weight of that particular plot point. He's ten. He has sex with a thirty-ish business woman. Do you know what kind of therapy they both would need after that? Jesus Christ. That scene at the end of the movie, where Elizabeth Perkins looks wistfully down the street as the ten year old she's been banging goes back to his mom's house? How is she not tearing her hair out at that point? She accidentally fucked a little boy. And instead of being horrified, the audience is supposed to be sad that it didn't work out for them to be together. Gross and weird.