to go: 1,088.38
best thing about our
movie date last night wasn't
was good, of course.
As a morally conflicted mob
man, circa 1931, he managed to convey the usual 43,897,621 different
emotions simply by narrowing his eyes a little. Still, he wasn't the
best part of the evening for me. Neither was Jude Law, as the creepiest
bad guy in a cast full of creepy bad guys. Neither was Paul Newman,
although they'll probably wind up giving him an Oscar next spring
simply for being Paul Newman.
best part wasn't the
storyline. When you're writing a movie screenplay about a guy who kills
people for a living, how many different ways can it end?
It wasn't the theater
itself ... although I do like Oakland's unapologetically ostentatious
Grand Lake Cinema. As David pointed out, Tom Hanks himself probably sat
through many a boyhood matinee, right there in the same cheesy red
velvet seats *we* were sitting in. It wasn't the mostly-well-behaved
theater crowd. (Two ringing cell phones, one briefly talkative child,
one overly-excited woman shouting "Shoot
him again!" during a pivotal
moment in the story.) It wasn't popcorn or malted milk balls
or syrupy movie theater Coca-Cola. (We bypassed the snack bar
entirely, although we did have an amazing
Chicago-style hotdog at Colonel Mustard's next door, just before the
movie.) It wasn't the luxury of a midweek night-out with my husband, or
the convenience of not having to cook, or the undeniable comfort of
sitting in an air-conditioned movie theater on the hottest night of the
year. It wasn't even the idea of seeing one of this year's *big deal*
movies a couple of days ahead of the rest of the world, thanks to
pair of advance screening tickets David got from his boss.
of that stuff was
good. But it wasn't what I liked best about our movie date.
The thing I liked best
about our movie date, last night, was the moment that my date shifted
around in his seat, reached over in the darkness ...
and held my hand.
what a movie date is all about, if you ask me.
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