From the weekend:
~ Before our matinee of “V is for Vendetta” started Saturday, I ducked into the restroom. I was alone until she slumped in. I watched her in the mirror. She was solid, burly, decked out in an oversized t-shirt, matching oversized pants. Her feet didn’t step but shuffled across the tile. Head hung firmly down in a “don’t look at me” way. She clutched something in the crook of her elbow. What was it? The extra fabric of her shirt almost obscured it, but right before she disappeared into her stall, I caught a glimpse of what it was: an extra large tub of popcorn.
She brought her tub of popcorn into the restroom.
I was stunned. I thought maybe she’d ask me to watch it or hold it or something.
Nope. That enormous tub went right into the stall with her. I just stood there, transfixed, water continuing to pour over my now impossibly clean hands. I must have seemed OCD, but I just had to watch.
I could see her feet, of course, under the door of the stall. But where was the tub? Oh, look. There it is.
On the floor between her feet.
The tub was in the bathroom. In the stall. On the floor between her feet.
And right before I sprinted for the door, I saw her grabbing a big handful while stray white puffs fell to the floor around her feet.
~ Oh, and “V for Vendetta”? Ugh. Puhleaze. A movie we chose because there were no choices. Ah, sometimes that happens. You know, the whole “comic book” movie genre eludes me, really. Well, I liked Spiderman well enough, forcing myself to overlook that he is, after all, a SPIDER man. But I guess I lack the imagination or the testosterone or the whole “wow, I WISH I was 9 again” thing that one needs to really be swept away by it all. And THIS movie?? AAGGHH. I could NOT get past the fact that Hugo Weaving wore that preposterous Guy Fawkes mask the entire freakin’ time! Can a person really — enjoyably — look at this simpering thing for 2 hours?? It makes me want to kill people:
I confess I spent the larger part of the movie quietly egging on ANY character in ANY scene with V: “C’mon. Rip it off. C’MON! Pleeeeaaze …… DAMmit! I hate you! You know what? Now he’s gonna kill you and then you’ll be sorry because that pasty, RETARDED face is the last thing on this earth you’re gonna see!” Of course, underneath the smiling plastic, he’s apparently some horribly charred goblin, but I would have welcomed the chance just to look at FLESH, no matter what shape it was in. So when you think about it, he’s really just a big ol’ scab, a black, plastic, sadistic SCAB. Luckily Weaving is blessed with a rich baritone voice, providing the only expression he could even use in the role. It’s frustrating, because you know there’s a human being under there and yet, you don’t identify with him as anything remotely human. And yeah, yeah, supposedly, the movie makes you think about STUFF like: Was V a hero? Or a terrorist? Or some great tragic figure? Who CARES?? He was basically a freak in a freaky mask. But, really, it does make you think about other stuff too, like: Was that actually Hugo Weaving in the whole V getup? OR did he just do the voice and some other actor wore the mask, like the whole Darth Vader dealio from “Star Wars”? THAT’S what the movie really makes you think about, peeps. Blech.
~ Later that same day — I guess to punish myself for the movie — I bought some unsweetened chocolate soy milk. WHA??? Please. It was SO upsetting. Let’s not talk about it anymore.
~ Sunday afternoon, I bought some red and orange and fuschia ranunculus from the farmers’ market down the street. At home, I fussed over their clashing hues until they formed a fiery cluster that perfectly matched my unsweetened chocolate soy milk mood. My Beloved, though, saved the day by renting Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightley. I’d been dragging my feet about seeing it because I’m SUCH a fan of the Colin Firth/Jennifer Ehle version, but it IS Pride and Prejudice, for Pete’s sake, and guaranteed to squeeze the sickly, unsweetened soy out of ANYONE!!
So, some random thoughts:
~ Donald Sutherland, his odd, aging face settling into a craggy warmth, is just wonderful as Mr. Bennet, always one of my favorite characters. His very presence is wry and soothing and a perfect counterpoint to the incessant flutter of his wife and younger daughters. Plus, he gets to utter lines like these: “Your mother will never see you again if you don’t marry Mr. Collins and I will never see you again if you DO.” Hahaha.
~ Gah, the actor who plays Mr. Collins — he’s just a hilarious little hobbit! He kills me with his wee-ness and obsequiousness, his silly intensity. I swear he speaks THE funniest line in the movie while at dinner at the Bennets’ humble home. The camera zooms in a tight close-up to a bowl of heaping potatoes, then we see Mr. Collins, struggling for something good to say. He says this: “What a superbly featured room and what …… excellent boiled potatoes. Many years since I’ve had such an exemplary vegetable.” The actor pauses for the merest second there, before the word “excellent.” I’ve now watched that moment over and over and it becomes more hilarious to me each time!
~ Keira Knightley deserved that Oscar nomination. She surprised me, really. Her Lizzie is lively and witty and stubborn, but she captures that certain lightness that Lizzie must have. She was luminous.
~ Yeah, yeah. Judi Dench as Lady Catherine. She’s great. Isn’t that a given with her?
~ Oooh. The scene near the end of the movie where Lizzie tells Mr. Bennet that she really LOVES Mr. Darcy. Now THAT is the tear-jerking scene of the entire movie! Not seeing Lizzie and Darcy end up together, but seeing father and daughter in their unabashed, bittersweet adoration of each other. Donald Sutherland is genius in that scene. I bawled like a baby.
~ And now, to my gripe: Matthew Macfadyen as Mr. Darcy. I’m sorry. He has the face of a over-scrubbed tuber, bumpen, lumpen and starchy. It does not woo or inspire or seduce, but rather begs to be bathed in butter and dolloped with sour cream. He’s a bowl of “excellent boiled potatoes” with a pleasant speaking voice. His eyes are rabbity, impassive. Close-ups of his face left me unmoved — and he’s Darcy, for God’s sake! That’s not the reaction a girl should be having. Oh, well, there IS the moment at the end of the movie where he comes a’stridin’ across the dewy morning field, coat tails rippling in the breeze, face in blessed shadow, and you momentarily feel something, but then suddenly the light comes up on that face and you hold your breath and ….. it’s just a dish of Darcy Au Gratin. So bottom line, he’s fine, I guess, if you like your Mr. Darcy tuber-faced and rabbit-eyed and incapable of making you swoon.
Here. I’ll just offer you a visual comparison. This will explain EVERYTHING:
Side Dish:
Main Dish:
AGAIN, THAT’S:
Side Dish:
Main Dish:
We all clear??
(Oh, but I’ve still watched it 2 times since we rented it. AND I’ve rewound the strolling through the dew scene more than a few times, mentally pasting Colin Firth’s face over The Tuber’s.)
I mean, it IS Pride and Prejudice after all!
