Yesterday afternoon we went to see The Revenant. I don’t want to spoil anything for you, but I doubt if you would be surprised to hear that this two and a half hour film builds to a pretty dramatic, tense climax. That’s a lot of footage of Leonardo DiCaprio having a really bad hair day. We went to the newly remodelled Plymouth Theater, which has reclining seats that are like Barcaloungers on steroids. Movies had better be entertaining or the audience will certainly be napping.
Leo’s interminable slog through the wilderness managed to keep me just above the snore zone. I was told by someone that the director claimed that there has never been a movie made like this one. I’m not sure what aspect of it he was referring to, but if that’s true, why did we pretty much know what the outcome was going to be. I’m not necessarily complaining, I enjoy a good survival and revenge flick as much as the next person. And the locations were spectacular.
About a hundred and thirtyfive minutes in, just as the final, final climax was starting, Beck leaned over to whisper in my ear. I know it’s rude, but we try to be fairly quiet. I thought to make some comment about action on the screen.
I leaned toward her and heard, “Weren’t we supposed to be at Becker’s tonight?”
Oh crap. I knew this was somehow my fault, I’m the organizationally challenged one who has a very long record of space outs.
We’d been invited to dinner hosted by the world’s greatest entertainers, along with two other couples that whose company we enjoy. One does not refuse an invitation to the Becker’s.
Although I had put it on the online calendar, I hadn’t put it on the paper calendar taped to the refrigerator.
“When?”
“Now! Should we just duck out now?”
Hell no! I’m not investing this much time in a movie and not see the end!”
We were in weekend at home mode, looking pretty rough. Not as bad as Leo, but for suburbanites, pretty rough. We would need to go home and change. We usually are underdressed by comparison, but this would be taking slovenliness to the extreme.
We bolted from the theater as soon as the credits started to roll, jumped in the car, called our hosts to beg forgiveness and let them know we’d be late. Rushed home, changed clothes and rushed back out the door, we made it to their house, only about a half hour late.
The movie end of the movie was exciting, dramatic and tense. But the real adrenalin shot came from our dash to dinner.
Love this! Glad you could do both, and it sounds like a win all the way around!
Thanks Kris! I love it when I get comments. That way I know when somebody’s actually reading.
In other words nothing has changed.