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#matilda 1996
frodo-sam · 1 year
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MATILDA + food 1996 | dir. Danny DeVito
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fruitblr · 1 year
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MATILDA (1996) dir. Danny DeVito
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lesbiantahani · 9 months
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rewatching matilda 1996 is like...you are never forced to empathise with mrs wormwood at the end of it all when matilda begs to stay with miss honey, and yet so many people walk away from this scene thinking "oh she really did love matilda, she doesnt want to let her go" and to that i say i think you are missing the message being conveyed here. she doesnt say "i love you, matilda, i couldnt stand to lose you" she says "youre the only daughter ive ever had." to mrs wormwood her love for matilda is shaped by possession, by not fully seeing matilda as anything BUT her daughter. where as miss honey sees matilda as everything; as brave and funny and smart and kind and true. the film says to you: a mothers love can be awful and mean and dismissive and cruel, something loud and altogether absent. and then it says: you can sit on a swing set in the sun, maybe even on a picnic blanket, and it can be life saving and warm and soft and quiet and completely unconditional, something you can touch, something safe. even if she still harbored maternal feelings for matilda, mrs wormwood was never the mother she deserved or ever needed. miss honey is. and when mrs wormwood is faced with the harsh reality of completely losing her daughter, she does the one single, truly loving parental act in the whole movie, and allows miss honey to adopt her. the film doesnt want you feeling bad for matildas birth mother, its saying: empathise with the little girl who is saved, and think of the little girl inside of you who deserved the same.
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Matilda (1988) // Matilda (1996) // Matilda the Musical (2022)
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MATILDA (1996)
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albaharu · 1 year
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Matilda (1996) + Matilda (2022)
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gyrovagus-bibliophile · 3 months
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Someone, please help me out, i'm going insane
Ya'll, i just realised something while scrolling through AO3. There's a Destiel fanfiction for ANYTHING.
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But, at some point, i asked myself "is what i'm looking for too weird to be found?", which got answered by a simple "no" most of the time (I got a "The Parent Trap" fanfic, a "Hairspray" fanfic [EVEN THO IT'S UNFINISHED], a "Grease" fanfic, etc...), until i realised something shocking and, to be honest, a request i thought wasnt that weird.
But, THERE'S NO PROPER MATILDA x SUPERNATURAL FANFICTION WITH DESTIEL. I think ya'll should be informed of this and maybe would be able to do something about it as quick as possible (since i'm currently going mad), but if you dont wanna write it yourselves, could you please hype me up to write my own? (i swear i'll post the link if i ever manage to get enough energy to write it)
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marthamaxing · 5 months
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What? I wasn't watching Matilda thinking of these two
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pencokun · 8 months
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Concept art for an Indonesian AU of Matilda
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Today's problematic ship is Agatha Trunchbull and Jennifer Honey from Matilda (1996)
Age gap
Step aunt/niece "incest"
Abusive
Requested by anonymous
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pilindiel · 1 year
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Do you watch Matilda (1996/2022) and sob at every story beat or are you normal
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punkeropercyjackson · 2 months
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Sally Jackson is in the same character category as Miss Honey and is therefore a lesbian.I said what i said
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pastacurls · 1 year
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Because Roald dahl was a terrible person I’ve taken it upon myself to queer-code Charlie bucket and turn Matilda into an allegory for being autistic, what’s he gonna do about it?
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maybeimamuppet · 10 months
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it isn't much, but it is enough for me
hello everyone!! hope you’re having a great day!
this is a request fill for Revolting Child on ao3 who requested matilda and miss honey’s first night together after the events of canon :)
tw for 
implied/mentioned abuse 
nightmares
implied ptsd
and as always if i’ve missed something please let me know so i can add it :)
enjoy!
—————
Neither Matilda nor Miss Honey are entirely sure how to get started. 
In the moment, everything had seemed so certain. The Trunchbull had been run out of school, Matilda’s parents had agreed to the adoption. Nothing else mattered just then. 
They realized slowly, as the school day came to an end and all the other children went home to their families, that it matters quite a lot. 
Matilda and Miss Honey simply sit in the empty classroom, occasionally looking at the other, both unsure of what to say or what to do. 
Eventually, Miss Honey gently stands from her desk. “Well, um… why… why don’t we pop by your house and fetch some things you’ll need?” 
Matilda nods and grabs her school bag from her hook, feeling the smooth leather of the straps as she hooks them over her shoulders. Miss Honey gently reaches out a hand for her. Matilda takes it and slowly leads her on the long walk to her house. 
She hesitates as her hand touches the cool brass of the doorknob. Memories come rushing back to her. 
The garish wallpaper, somehow orange, yellow, and green all at once. The pinks and the oranges and the yellows and… so bright. The strange texture of the carpeting. The yelling she’s still preparing instinctively to hear, muffled, but louder as soon as she opens the thick wooden door. 
This time, there’s nothing. 
Apart from the scattered furniture and knickknacks her parents left behind, there’s no sign of life. It’s like a bomb went off. Broken things on the floor, clothing that didn’t fit inside overstuffed suitcases carelessly crumpled on the ground, other bits and bobs everywhere. Nothing where it belongs. But if not for those things strewn carelessly around, you’d never know anyone ever lived there. 
Matilda gently crouches down and picks up one of her mother’s china dancer figurines. Matilda always loved them. She was never allowed to touch them, for fear she’d break them, but she admired them and their beautiful colorful dresses from afar. 
She carefully strokes a finger over the smooth figurine, down her hair and over the frills at the bottom of her dress. Her mother must have dropped it. There’s a tiny little fractal of her skirts missing at the very bottom, the rough texture of the inner china a stark contrast to the smooth glaze on the outside. She adds it to her bag without a word. 
Miss Honey silently follows her up the stairs to the attic, her bedroom. Matilda looks around. Last night was her last night ever sleeping stuck up here, illuminated by the moonlight through the small window, listening to all the creaks of the wood and the groaning as the rainwater rushed through all the pipes, deafening so high up. 
Matilda hesitates, deciding what to take. She packs all the clothes she has that still fit. Not many. A few dresses, a shirt, some jeans. That’s about it. Her drawings she did. A few little toys she made herself out of various things she found in the house and around the neighborhood, just for sentimentality. 
She freezes outright when she gets to her books. Miss Honey watches from Matilda’s firm old bed. “Make a list of what you have. We’ll take what we can carry and find replacements for the others. Just make sure you get all the ones that are special to you.” 
Matilda nods and scratches a list on the back of one of her drawings. She packs up the first book Mrs. Phelps had let her keep, a few more that she had gotten from various people in the neighborhood who were kind enough to notice her and her love of reading. 
They’re in and out within less than fifteen minutes. Matilda’s entire life packed into one bag, with a few books that didn’t fit carried in her arms. She plucks a rose from the bush outside as they walk back down the path and takes one last look. 
The house didn’t do anything to her. But she’s still glad to leave it. 
—-
Miss Honey leads her in through the rickety door to the shed she calls home. Matilda smiles to herself as it clinks shut behind her. 
She takes a deep breath. Miss Honey’s house smells like… flowers. Crayons, old books, something a bit dusty, in a nice way. It smells like a home. 
“Just for tonight, how would you feel about getting some takeaway? We’ve had quite a day, something easy?” Miss Honey asks as Matilda settles into the old wooden armchair in the corner. Matilda nods. “What sort would you like?” Matilda shrugs. “What if we got a pizza?”
“Pizza?” Matilda asks. “They do takeaway?”
“Yes, they do,” Miss Honey chuckles. 
“I’ve only ever had it frozen and microwaved,” Matilda replies. 
“Frozen pizzas can be nice if they’re cooked properly, but I think you’ll much prefer a takeaway to that,” Miss Honey says. “What sorts of toppings do you like?”
“I don’t know,” Matilda says. “I’ve never had anything except pepperoni.” 
“We’ll stick with that for tonight, then,” Miss Honey says. She crouches down in the small kitchen area she has to work with. There isn’t much there. A single stovetop burner to cook on, plugged into the wall. A refrigerator about as tall as Matilda. Cabinets and cupboards, with hardly enough room for any cookware, let alone any food to keep. A few nuts and other snacks, maybe, but very little else. 
Miss Honey opens a drawer on the very bottom next to the cabinets on the far left. She has to root through it for quite a while. She clearly doesn’t order from this place very often. 
She stands up with a small grunt as she finds what she was looking for and heads to the phone on the wall. She reads the number for the local pizza place off the pamphlet in her hand and dials it in, each of the buttons making a satisfying little click sound as she presses them with her index finger. She rests the phone between her shoulder and her head, tipping it to the side so it’s secured in the crook of her neck and using her left hand to support it just a bit. 
Matilda listens as her lilting voice chats for a moment with the pizza parlor worker on the other end of the line. She orders their large pepperoni pizza and looks over her shoulder to ask Matilda if she’d like anything else. Matilda startles just a bit and shakes her head. Miss Honey nods and turns back around, giving her address and saying a polite goodbye before hanging up the phone. 
“Alright, our food should be here in about twenty minutes. Shall we get you settled in in the meantime or do you need a moment to just sit?” 
“Settled in?” Matilda questions. Miss Honey nods.
“Unpack your things, get them put where they go,” she explains. 
Matilda blinks, mulling it over. Her things have a place here. This isn’t just Miss Honey’s home anymore, it’s hers, too. She nods and hesitantly goes to fetch her bag. 
She unfolds the clothes first. Miss Honey fetches some spare hangers and hangs her dresses next to hers. She does it like a rainbow, in order of the colors. Matilda likes that. 
Miss Honey also clears out a drawer in her dresser and carefully sorts her own things into the others before she puts Matilda’s pants, shirts, and undergarments into the newly empty one. 
Books are next. Matilda takes the small stack and carefully adds them in amongst the alphabetically sorted ones on Miss Honey’s bookshelf. 
She isn’t quite sure what to do with the rest of her things. 
“Anything special to you or that you don’t want to be damaged can stay in your bag, if you like. But…” Miss Honey stands, stepping up onto the small platform that functions as her bedroom. Matilda follows, but stays on the floor. There isn’t room for both of them to stand in there. “I haven’t got anything in this corner here. That can be your little nook.” 
Matilda nods and smiles. She carefully tacks up her drawings and rests her toys on the ground in the corner. Her now-empty bag sits limply next to them, floppy without anything inside to hold it up. 
“These drawings are beautiful,” Miss Honey says, sitting on her neatly made bed to watch Matilda move around without being in the way. “I love the birds.”
“Thank you,” Matilda responds sheepishly. Miss Honey nods and gently reaches to ruffle her hair. Matilda flinches, and the hand pauses before gently resting on her shoulder instead. 
“Never,” Miss Honey explains with one single, soft word. Matilda nods and takes a deep breath. 
“Habit,” she says, doing the same. Miss Honey smiles sadly at her and finally gives her that ruffle. Matilda smiles back and tucks her hair behind her ears.
Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Matilda startles again. Miss Honey gives her a look to check she’s alright as she stands to answer it. Matilda finds herself cowering behind the curtains that separate Miss Honey’s bedroom from the rest of the house and listening as Miss Honey chats with the delivery person and pays for their food. 
Matilda pokes her head out when she hears Miss Honey say a thank you and a goodbye, and then a dull thump as the door shuts and the metallic scratching of the old lock sliding shut. 
Miss Honey beckons her over with a hand. Matilda smiles and sits across from her on the ground, the both of them on either side of the rickety wooden crate that functions as a coffee table. Miss Honey opens the pizza box and releases its divine aroma into the room. “Tuck in.” 
Matilda hesitates, looking up at her. Whenever there was a pizza night in her old house, she always had to wait. Her parents got first pick of the best slices. Sometimes she was lucky to get the crusts they leftover. They never ate them. Miss Honey nods, so Matilda takes the piece with the most pepperonis on it and rests it on her paper plate. Miss Honey selects her own piece, and they smile at each other as they lean in for their first bites at the same time. 
Matilda feels her eyes widen as the delicious greasy goodness hits her taste buds. “Wow.”
“Good?” Miss Honey chuckles. Matilda nods eagerly and digs in. “Slow down, darling, you’ll choke.” 
Matilda slows only slightly. She takes her time chewing before taking another bite, and another, and another. Before she knows it, her slice is gone. “Can… can I please have more?” 
“Of course, love, you expect me to eat this whole thing myself?!” Miss Honey chuckles, politely holding her bite in her cheek. Matilda giggles and helps herself to another slice. 
The conversation over dinner is surprisingly light given the events of the day. Matilda discusses what she’s been reading about in her latest library book. She finds herself almost staring at Miss Honey, frequently doing double takes. Nobody’s ever really listened before. Well, Mrs. Phelps does. But she’s read all the books before. 
“That sounds fascinating, I might have to read that one next,” Miss Honey says when Matilda concludes her explanation. 
“Really?” Matilda asks.
“Of course! You describe things so eloquently, Matilda. I think you could make the most boring subject sound absolutely enthralling.”
“I didn’t think teachers were bored by anything,” Matilda says, taking another bite. She’s starting to slow down as she gets full. She doesn’t think she’s ever experienced that before. 
“We pretend not to be. But we have our favorite subjects and our least favorites just like you,” Miss Honey says. 
“What’s your least favorite?” Matilda asks. 
“I’ve never been much good at social studies, to tell you the truth. Politics, geography. I quite like history, but I’m not very good at it,” Miss Honey says as if it’s a terrible secret. Matilda’s surprised. Her class is a bit young for politics and much real history, but their geography lessons were always thrilling. Matilda never thought maps of the real world could be so interesting. “What about you?”
“I… I don’t know,” Matilda says. “Every subject has… bits I like and bits I don’t, I suppose. I like maths because there’s all these rules and there aren’t many exceptions to those rules. So it all fits. And I quite like English because that’s when you get to read and write. And I like history and psychology and chemistry and biology, and…” 
“And?” Miss Honey asks kindly.
“I’m talking too much,” Matilda says apologetically.
“No you aren’t, firefly,” Miss Honey says. “It’s like getting to know you. I like hearing about what you’re interested in.”
“Firefly?” Matilda questions softly. 
Miss Honey’s eyes shift slightly in the direction of the little wood stove. It isn’t lit, since today is sunny and warm. She takes a breath before she asks, “Can I tell you a secret?” 
Matilda nods, her eyes wide and fascinated. 
“You see how small that stove is?” Matilda nods. “I can only make the smallest fires in there. Barely embers. But… they’re enough. They keep me warm. They get me through any storm, any frost, any winter. It’s a small fire, but… stubborn. And willful, and powerful. And it fills me and this house with such warmth.” 
She looks back at Matilda. 
“And that’s exactly what you do, little one. You’re young and you’re small, but you have a fire that nobody will ever be able to put out. Not even Aunt Trunchbull. And sometimes, before today, when I was afraid of what she might do, I would lie in bed, and I would look at that little stove. And I’d think of you. And even just that gave me hope. Enough hope that we’d make it out of that situation. I’d feel warm. And I knew that as long as you and your friends were around, I could do anything. You give me strength. You’re a little fire all your own.”
Matilda blinks at her. 
“But if you don’t like it I won’t call you that again,” Miss Honey adds hastily. 
Matilda shakes her head frantically and sniffles, trying to discreetly wipe some tears from her eyes. “No, no, please. I-I love it. I’ve never had a nickname before. Well. A nice one.” 
“Then you’ll be firefly,” Miss Honey says. “Are you finished eating?”
Matilda looks down at her plate. Half of her third slice is still there, cooling progressively as it sits, uneaten, on the grease-soaked paper plate. “I haven’t finished this.”
“If you don’t think you’ll eat it now we can save it. But I’m fine waiting if you’re not done,” Miss Honey says.
Matilda picks up the slice and takes another bite. In spite of how delicious it is, she’s had so much that it doesn’t taste so good anymore. She puts it back down. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Miss Honey asks in confusion, taking the leftovers to the kitchen and wrapping them up so they don’t spoil in the fridge.
“I didn’t clear my plate. I wasted food,” Matilda says, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. 
“We’ll eat it tomorrow, or some other time. You can’t help when you get full,” Miss Honey says like it’s absolutely nothing. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Oh, yes, it was delicious. Thank you,” Matilda says.
“You’re very welcome. But you don’t have to thank me for everything, firefly,” Miss Honey replies, closing the door to the fridge and coming back to her. 
“Sorry.”
“And stop apologizing so much,” the woman chuckles, gently tapping the end of Matilda’s nose with her finger. 
“Sor… um.” 
Miss Honey laughs. Matilda finds herself giggling too. It’s much easier to laugh here than it was at her old house. It’s like some weight that used to live inside her stomach has lifted, and now all her organs and insides can move the way they’re meant to. Like she’s free. 
Miss Honey pulls down a board game for them to play to pass the time before bed. Matilda sufficiently trounces her at it a few times over. 
They take turns washing up in the small basin in the restroom, and brush their teeth side by side. They don’t really have room to, and giggle as their elbows keep gently bumping into each other and the walls. 
Miss Honey does a few things to her hair and dons her pajamas. Matilda realizes she doesn’t have any. She left all her old ones at home. She’d still had to wear them in spite of how uncomfortably tight and short they were on her. 
“Have you got pajamas, love?” Miss Honey calls from behind the curtain as she changes.
“No,” Matilda replies. Her outfit is comfortable enough to sleep in, she supposes. Miss Honey suddenly appears from behind the curtain once again with some fabric in her hands. 
Matilda gently takes it when she offers it. It’s one of Miss Honey’s nightgowns. Miss Honey says, “You can wear this for tonight. I’ll take you shopping as soon as possible for some necessities.”
“Thank you,” Matilda says. Miss Honey smiles and nods. Matilda takes her turn behind the curtain and pulls off her uniform. The temptation to tear it all to shreds now that the Trunchbull is gone is high. She hopes that Crunchem Hall is no more. So no more uniform. 
Instead, she carefully folds it and rests it on a rickety wooden chair. She pulls on the much too large nightgown. She’s so much smaller than Miss Honey that she puts her head through a sleeve first and has to figure out what went wrong. 
In spite of where it droops around her neck and drags a bit on the floor, it’s the comfiest thing Matilda’s ever worn. It smells just like Miss Honey. Like books and tea and flowers. And the fabric is so soft, it’s almost like wearing a cloud.
When she returns to the rest of the house, Miss Honey has made her a delightful little bed all her own out of various cushions, blankets, and other soft things she found around. “I hope this is alright for tonight. We’ll get something better for you when we go shopping.”
“It’s perfect,” Matilda says. Miss Honey smiles. 
Matilda crawls into her makeshift bed. Miss Honey comes and tucks her in tight. She gently kisses Matilda’s forehead and pulls the blankets up around her chin. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Matilda echoes. 
Miss Honey grabs a flashlight and a book from the shelf. She smiles and blows Matilda a kiss before tugging the curtains half-closed and going to bed herself. Matilda rolls away from the light and drifts off to a peaceful sleep.
—————
She’s woken a few hours later by a noise. Her eyes fly open and she sits up, ready to defend herself if need be. She pauses when it’s silent again. Did she imagine it? Surely not.
She listens intently. The house is nearly silent, except for the faint, distant ticking of Miss Honey’s alarm clock. The creaking of the old wood shifting as a light, peaceful breeze blows outside. The chirping of a few crickets Matilda can hear through the gap beneath the door. 
But then the noise happens again. Matilda stands and grabs another flashlight. 
It happens again. Matilda follows it… through the curtain. To Miss Honey’s room. 
She makes sure not to shine the light in her face. But it’s enough for Matilda to see her teacher lying stock-still, frozen, like she’s on the nasty end of a gun. Her muscles all tight and constricted. Her face wrought and pinched in worry. Her pajamas clinging to her skin, dampened with a cold sweat. 
The noises were whimpers.
She’s having a nightmare. 
Matilda isn’t sure what to do. She’s had plenty of nightmares herself, but she’s never seen a grownup have one. She thinks of what she always wanted most after a nightmare. 
A hug. 
She clicks the light back off and pads gently over to Miss Honey. She hesitates before she reaches out to touch her abdomen and gives her a gentle shake. “Miss Honey.” 
Miss Honey doesn’t wake, but she pauses, almost like she’s considering the presence of Matilda in her sleep. 
Matilda tries shaking her again. “Miss Honey.” 
Still nothing.
Matilda tries one more time. “Miss Honey.”
This time, Miss Honey’s eyes fly open and she sits bolt upright with a half-yelled, “No!”
Matilda steps back and looks at her. Miss Honey looks frantically around the room, and her eyes soften when she sees Matilda standing in the dark, partly illuminated by the moonlight streaming in the window behind her. 
“Oh, Matilda, it’s you,” she says, panting for a second to catch her breath. “What’s the matter?”
“You…” Matilda pauses. Maybe this is one of those times a white lie is preferable. “I had a bad dream.” 
“Oh,” Miss Honey says sadly. She reaches for her, and Matilda gently cuddles into her lap. 
“Can I stay with you?” Matilda asks softly. She asks for Miss Honey’s sake, but… it sounds really nice for her, too.
“Of course, love,” Miss Honey whispers. “One thing.”
Matilda is confused as the woman stands and pads off into the house. She returns quickly with something in her hand. 
Matilda recognizes the scarf as the beads on the end of the white fabric glint in the moonlight. Miss Honey gently drapes it around Matilda’s shoulders and shifts the covers back a bit so there’s room for both of them in the bed. Matilda nestles into place and turns to face her teacher.
Miss Honey climbs into the bed after her and tugs the blankets back over the both of them. Matilda thinks for a moment before she scoots herself a bit closer and rests one end of the scarf around her, too. 
She can see Miss Honey smile at her in the darkness. She gives a faint grin back. 
For the second time that night, they both drift off to sleep, feeling something neither of them have felt for a very long time. 
Safe.
—————
thanks for reading!! hope you enjoyed and that you have a wonderful day!!
lots of love,
ezzy 
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br333 · 2 months
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Hmmm... Matilda au??
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stranger-awakening · 1 year
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To me, that’s cinema:
★ Matilda (1996), dir. Danny Devito
“Sometimes Matilda longed for a friend, like the kind, courageous people in her books. It occurred to her that such talking dragons and princesses with hair long enough to climb... such people might only exist in story books. But she was about to discover she had a strength... a strength she wasn't even aware of.”
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