Today, I joined two local goddesses to see The Reader, a complex drama which promises to fill any viewer with disturbing questions of morality and the sadness of lives deeply impacted by passion, shame, secrets and circumstance. Comedic relief is important if you are to make it out of the theatre without losing 80% of your hydration through tears. The two old ladies beside the three of us offered some assistance.
During the first sequence of "sex scenes" the old woman beside me loudly said, "I didn't sign up for THIS."
(SIDE STORY: This reminded me of the time when my very Southern grandmother took my brother and I to see Dirty Dancing while my parents attended a high school reunion. She was outraged, and on several ocassions announced "If there is one more suggestive scene, we are leaving the theater.")
Our old women friends hung on, and I am grateful for that. During the final scene, just before the screen went black and the credits appeared, the faucet of my tear ducts fully opened. When Bernhard Schlink's novel was recognized (the basis of the film), my movie neighbor responded with conviction, sauciness and severe disgust: "Well I won't be reading that book."
It's been a while since I've laughed my ass off while crying. It may have prevented major depression from setting in. Sadness aside, I highly recommend The Reader. Just come with some funny old ladies. (P.S.... Uncommon Blonde, did Betty see The Reader today?)
1 comment:
LOL, Betty did not see the Reader yet but I think I'll get her the dvd instead of enduring the awkwardness with her. She's very proper but also enjoys the shock factor from time to time. I saw The Reader and thought the second half was so much better than the first.
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