Tuesday, July 6, 2010
At the movies: Linda Lou strikes again!
I had intended to go to a séance last Friday night (how many blog posts open with that?) but instead I ended up at the movies. I saw a fantastic film, Please Give, written and directed by Nicole Holofcener. I’ve been a big fan of hers since her first movie, Walking and Talking (1996), starring Anne Heche, who I would love to see playing moi in the film version of Bastard Husband: A Love Story. We’re both loons with crappy hair, so the casting would be perfect.
Holofcener’s other movies are Lovely and Amazing (2001) and Friends with Money (2006), with Jennifer Aniston. All very enjoyable, and all feature the wonderful actress Catherine Keener. If you like well written, quiet, slice-of-life, girl-focused stories, I highly recommend any of these.
I love quiet, independent films and lucky for me, they generally attract quiet, polite movie goers. Generally. My decision to see a movie Friday night was spur of the moment, and I entered the theater a minute or so after the feature started. (I hate that.) There were quite a few people in there, so I took the first seat I could find up front on the aisle.
Of course, I had to pick the row with the talkers. Yep, the couple two seats away from me must have thought they were on their living room couch instead of a public movie theater. Deep breath…
Remember how I publicly scolded the couple behind me when I took Connor to see the Karate Kid a few weeks ago? Okay, so I’m sitting there thinking, “What kind of message am I sending out to the universe to attract these rude-ass people?” But for some reason, I didn’t react with my usual, I am going to rip your f*cking head off if you don’t shut up. No, I was perfectly calm throughout the film, determined that I wasn’t going to let anyone ruin it.
I remained perfectly calm as the credits rolled, but when the couple rose and headed toward the aisle, I lifted a 4-inch Vegas heel onto the seat in front of me, blocking their exit from the row.
“Excuse me,” the guy said.
I channeled an attitude from my old substitute teaching days. “You two talked through that whole movie,” I said, still perfectly calm and not even using what my kids call my “snotty voice.”
“Oh, we’re sorry,” he said.
I held out my hand. “Nine dollars.” They gave each other a quizzical look. “That’s what I paid to hear you two talking.”
“We’re sorry,” he said again.
“You can’t talk through movies. That’s not polite. Don’t do that again, okay?”
“Okay,” he said.
I released my foot and let them pass. Then as I walked up the aisle behind them, I realized they… might be…
I honestly don’t know; maybe they were just nerdy.
But just in case, I’m glad I held back from my usual seething self. So I guess the moral of this story is, the world would be a nicer place if we treated everyone as if they were retarded.