Forgive intensity of this post, dear blog reader, have just returned from watching 300 when self thought all along hubby was driving us to Menlo Park to see The Lives of Others.
Oh well, that’s OK. Since Berlin audiences gave 300 standing ovation at Berlin Film Festival, and star Gerard Butler has faintly Germanic accent (though he is Scottish), and all sorts of Wagnerian (and loud rock) music have been pounding eardrums for last two hours, similarities with The Lives of Others probably many (though won’t have definitive last word on this issue until I see that movie).
Well, how could I have gotten so mixed up and confused that I thought we were going to watch the Oscar-winning Best Foreign Film? Was it because I quoted hubby the matinee time? And because hubby had never breathed a syllable, in all the past three weeks, about wanting to see 300?
No matter. We were there. And as friend in Diamond Bar, CA used to tell me, If you’re already wet, you might as well go in all the way, or something to that effect.
Anyway, I surprised myself by hugely, and I mean HUGELY enjoying this movie. So many magnificent torsos on display! Whereas, in the last few weeks, caught only a five-minute glimpse of Hugh’s (in Music & Lyrics) and skinny chest of James McAvoy in The Last King of Scotland.
Suddenly, here, in this one movie, are a surfeit of highly toned abs. And the actor who played Faramir in Lord of the Rings (though he does end movie missing an eye). And one bodacious Queen. And trans-sexual Xerxes. And one terribly malformed, humpbacked Spartan who gets mad because King Leonidas says he is too short to fight with the rest of his men (Well,he was! Let’s not fault King Leonidas for calling a spade a spade!). And various molten-faced seers. And one indeed very fetching tall lad who unfortunately gets his head sliced off. And — ?
Should I continue, dear blog reader? Maybe not. Am afraid I will give away the plot of the whole movie. Though if you remember your Greek history you will know how it ends.
Anyway, the movie was like poetry to me, sheer poetry. Will urge son to see it, as soon as he steps in the door. And enjoyment not in the least curtailed by hubby digging his hand into my small bag of popcorn, even though he said he didn’t want anything when I asked.
Anyway, there I was hollering and hooting and laughing my head off, and clutching hubby’s arm and saying things like, “What’s that they’re shouting?” And, “He’s going to give away the goat path!” and, “Is Xerxes a transvestite?” and, “He’s going to diiiieeee”, and, trust me, since sixth sense has been honed on such movies since the age of eight (when Dearest Dad snuck me in to see The Adventurers, and promised ticket girl he would cover my eyes and forgot), I always correctly predict imminent demise of major (or minor) characters.
Anyway, feel so refreshed now. As if self could take on a whole horde of students, screaming as loudly as the Persians. Cathartic, positively cathartic.