Holden Caulfield, the jail-bait Tyler Durden, and I didn’t meet until I was 20. He was just a stunted high school boy and I was a super-sophisticated, college girl. But it seemed wrong to completely dismiss him, without even so much as a text message hook-up, especially as my friends thought he was the sexiest literary character since Fabio.

So, my sophomore year, wearing a lot of black and feeling very grown-up, I succumbed to my friends’ peer pressure and finally read “Catcher.” And when I closed the book, Holden’s high school problems, as I predicted, seemed so beneath me. I simply couldn’t relate to his anguish. I was in a different place in my life. Because we met when I was 20 and he was still 13, Holden Caufield wasn’t power-ballading the anthem of my childhood, Holden was just a whiny little bitch who needed to grow up, go to college, drink some Jaeger. Jaeger, woooooo!

Then, last week, when my best friends staged a film, gunpoint, A&E style intervention, I wasn’t surprised. Apparently when my alien leaders dropped me here, they neglected to mention to watch Napoleon Dynamite. How I managed to avoid it, I can’t tell you. It wasn’t because I was a hater. I somehow just missed it, like “Catcher.” But according to my captors, I mean friends, not only was I going to watch this movie and love it because Napoleon Dynamite is the best movie I’ve never seen, it’s sorta like the best movie ever, gawd! We never got as far as the “or else.” Jeff VanVonderen got me to agree to watch the movie.

I want to be very clear about this “intervention.” It was less like an intervention and more like an on-going, harrowing, pitch-fork-wielding, water-boarding with homemade guacamole. Since “my friends” (I doubt if that’s even their real names) discovered this flaw in my cultural downloading over a year ago, every outing is “Give me your tots.” I would smile, nod, realizing I would’ve probably found it funny had I been in on their “oh-so-clever” inside joke. But they’re Evildoers. What do you expect? They water-board with homemade sangria. Evildoer Janelle, the ring leader, was more like “Please do borrow my copy and keep it for as long as you like. And here’s some leftovers wrapped in a tinfoil swan,” but whatever, you get the point. Evildoers, just the same.

Armed with was was purported to be the Citizen Kane of Indie Comedy, I gave it a watch. I can’t tell you I hated it, but I also can’t tell you I loved it and felt connected to it like they do. It was just okay. I laughed. There were funny moments, interesting characters, a world that was well-drawn and unique. It had many excellent qualities. So, I figured, maybe Napoleon Dynamite is one of those movies where the more you watch it, it starts to grow on you like the best kind of toe mold. So, I watched it three times more. I liked it less. It turns out, just like Holden, it’s just not my bag, man.

After about the first 15 minutes, I actually said out loud “What the hell am I watching?” And honestly I still don’t know. According to Jon, another of the band of Evildoers, for me to even bother to deconstruct is ridiculous because I’m missing the whole point. The whole point is that there is no point. That’s what makes it genius. It’s not about an A to B to C plot, but rather the small moments that strings everything together. But I disagree. Every good movie has a point, every good movie has a definable journey either for the protagonist or the whole arc, every good movie satisfies, and for me, Napoleon Dynamite left something to be desired.

A script is an upside down pyramid. Everything that comes after your first scene rests on the structure you’ve built below it. So, when I find myself watching a movie and I’m an hour in and I still couldn’t tell you what the movie is about, I start to question where is the narrative? A movie cannot solely rest on the laurels of clever lines or quirky moments and be counted as a successful creative endeavor. Well, at least not in my book.

Emotional growth, pathos, goals, motivation are the necessary components of a successful film and script, and for me Napoleon Dynamite had none of that. It was a lugubriously paced, meandering, low-energy romp through Valium Village. There were no road maps or street signs, just a never-ending prairie road that lead to more of the same Nowheresville quirkiness. At any given point, I couldn’t tell you if I was in Act One or Act Three because the protagonist’s goal hadn’t been properly established from the outset. And that’s just frustrating.

What Napoleon Dynamite did have going for it, were the awesome characters who were inventive, fresh, and outrageous. Each character was a gem in their own right. They were simply drawn, yet deceivingly complex and they were all surprising and a delight.

Way to rock the side pony, Deb! Nice low rider, Pedro! You keep training to be a cage fighter, Kip. It’s gonna happen. I believe with with Lafawnduh’s true, chat room love, anything is possible. Uncle Rico’s high school football dream “gerbil wheel” was understated yet honest. And those bits, those details, those special moments and minutiae really are all genius.

However, when the pieces are put together, on the boneless skeleton I felt was missing, it was hard for me to care when Deb and Napoleon danced to “Forever Young,” even though the song is still stuck in my head. Liking a character, or what they say, isn’t enough to carry me along. I need the structure of a satisfying story to fulfill me on every level.

One of my criteria for a “repeat offender” movie is that I have to enjoy the energy of the film. And for me, Napoleon Dynamite didn’t speak to me. I thought that while it had an energy, breakthrough characters and awesome set design reminiscent of David Byrne’s True Stories, it lacked Byrne’s social commentary and heart. It felt like it suffered from 5 minute nonsensical Famiy Guy style cutaways.

Quirk with no substance behind it. For me it was cotton candy: sweet, delicious, and it instantly melts away, leaving you wanting something heartier. Napoleon was indeed a well-crafted, well-drawn character, and his sweet drawings of “Ligers, bread for their skill and magical powers” is totally rad by itself, but it’s not enough to propel a story forward. And for me there’s a breakdown there.

The Coalition of Evil BFF’s non-stop whipping me with lines from this movie, forcing me to like it before I ever saw the first frame might’ve accidentally soured me. I get you want me to vote for Pedro. I get it. Evildoer Jon and I had a call that went something like this: “You’re just a hater and you missed the whole point… This is the voice of my whole college life, you just don’t get it.” The call with Janelle went, “Friendship over.”

I recognize and appreciate Napoleon Dynamite for its fresh, bold characters, its clever moments, but maybe, like my aborted love affair with Holden Caulfield, I just missed connecting with it at the right time in my life. Maybe Evildoer Jon is right; maybe it’s isn’t about the story, it’s about the experience. So, I’m just gonna go “make myself a quesadilla,” and “just do what ever I feel like. Gawd!”