I spent the weekend at my mom’s house, as I do about every other weekend for two reasons: (A) I love my mother and (B) she cooks for me. This weekend we also decided that we needed to go to the movies and see some of the films that are nominated for the Oscars. I was a little shocked this year to see most of the movies I had spent the year seeing weren’t nominated. Okay, not really. I came to the conclusion long ago that Hollywood rarely if ever heaps praise in the form of Naked Gold Men for movies that I actually like.
But any who…this weekend my mom and I went and saw Slumdog Millionaire and Frost/Nixon. Both were great movies with superb writing and acting. And I am not blowing smoke up your ass by saying so. I actually really liked both movies, so kudos to the Academy for getting something right.
Frost/Nixon was my favorite of the two, because the portrayal of Richard Nixon by Frank Langella was spot on and that I was the youngest person in the theater by a good twenty years. I guess shame on me for being a 26 (nearly 27) year old who loves American History. I love the looks I get when I am the youngest person surrounded by oldies. They take one look at me and then are forced to glance at their ticket to make sure they didn’t accidently wander into My Bloody Valentine 3-D.
My favorite geriatric moment came when the lights went down and the theater was left in complete blackness except for the faint light coming from the screen. An elderly couple was about halfway up the steps and stopped right by my aisle. Even though I was in the middle of my row, I could hear their whispered conversation saturated in confusion. See, in the darkness they couldn’t see where two empty seats were and stood, frozen like people who run across a T-Rex. Afraid to move lest someone spot them. Or worse, they are spotted and take a nasty tumble down the stairs.
No joke this couple stood there for a good four trailers before something came on screen that was bright enough for them to see that there were some empty seats in my row. So of course, Mr. and Mrs. Santa Clause (that’s what they looked like) sidled into my row and sat next to me, luckily leaving the customary empty seat of separation between us.
I forgot that I was surrounded by people who actually lived through Watergate until about an hour into the movie when a cell phone went off. Now, mind you, I was the only person of the cell phone age in the theater. My mom, who would still be considered a young whippersnapper in that group hadn’t even brought hers. Nope, the phone and its god awful volume 11 ring belonged to a little old white haired women about ten rows in front of me who couldn’t find the thing in her enormous Mary Poppins like carpet bag of death. Right in the middle of a critical scene (because they were all critical) we were serenaded and the suspension of disbelief was broken.
But I guess that serves me right for going to a movie at one in the afternoon. Next time I’ll remember to go to a 5 o’clock show, when the oldies are already in bed.
~The Office Scribe