My mind is disturbed for a number of reasons tonight and so I am going to attempt to write about it in the hopes that I’ll be able to sleep afterwards. And it will be difficult because sometimes my grandmother reads this blog and the thought of her reading this particular post is also disturbing. She is a pie baking, cookie making grandmother who doesn’t read about things like this. Grandma, if you’re reading right now…maybe sit this one out okay?
Ahem. Late this afternoon I began to feel rage. A rage that could only stem from the hormones that bring about PMS. It was getting bad and I just felt the need to not really be around people. Innocent people didn’t deserve to be inflicted with this irrational anger I was carrying around. I’m responsible with my hormones so I grabbed my laptop and went to a diner to do a bit of work. It was all good. I had coffee, I had chicken wings and I did some admin type stuff. Everything was under control.
After my meal I headed to catch a movie.
I live in a little town outside of Calgary so when I go to see a movie, I head to the Movie House. It’s a charming little cine-plex and if each theatre seats more than 100 people I’d be surprised. It’s the sort of place where you don’t need to show your ticket to anyone. You buy your ticket and you get your treat and you seat yourself all about 5 min before the film starts because there are no line-ups. I love our Movie House and sitting there in the dark, all by myself was exactly what I needed.
I get my skittles and open the door to theatre #5 and the lights are pretty low. I wait a moment to let my eyes adjust and use the floor lighting to help me navigate to a free seat. As I’m sitting down I hear a raspy voice “If you sit there dear, we’ll all be crowded! Ha!” My tush hits the flip down seat and I can feel her hand on my shoulder. “Really, I love it when the theatre is empty like this,” she says, “it’s nice to not deal with crowds.” At this point, being tapped on the shoulder and chatted to is the last thing I want but I make nice and feign laughter because this 60-something woman is just trying to be small town friendly and who am I to stop her? Who is my PMS to stop her? She’s there with a friend and two men who I assume are the husbands. They are being silly and I wonder if they are a bit drunk. Maybe I should move a few rows over? I didn’t want to hurt their feelings and it was pretty dark and oh look…previews were starting.
Matthew McConaughey was headed out to space and I was almost crying…ok, I was crying. At the previews. I’m a freaking emotional shit storm. Gah. Once I made it through that and the main feature began I was ready to jab knitting needles straight through my ears and into my brain. Let me explain this desire:
Gone Girl stars Ben Affleck and his female lead Rosamund Pike. The story is meant to disturb. Early in the film he is performing a ‘romantic’ act (please Grandma, don’t be reading) and it’s fairly graphic … it’s kissing…below the belt. It was uncomfortable for me to watch because it’s not the sort of thing I’m into watching and because they designed it to be uncomfortable to watch. Bring in the back row crew and their mutterings “Oh my, would you look at that,” and I was LOSING IT. It was like watching porn with my parents. I was wigging OUT.
The crew kept it up through the entire movie. Reading the novelty t-shirt of Affleck’s sister; “Protect your nuts, her shirt says protect your nuts. hahaha” and trying to keep everyone up to date on the plot “No, this scene is present day. Look in the corner and they tell you if it’s past or present.”
I don’t want to say too much about the story line because it’s full of twists and turns and I HATE when people give stuff away so I’ll be good. But let me say, I haven’t been this disturbed after a movie since Silence of the Lambs. It’s full of uncomfortable sex, violence and head games. Couple this with the crew’s narration and I walked out of that place wondering what I had just experienced. My sweet, sweet Movie House had just tossed my brain in a blender and hit pulse.
I loved this feeling. I hated this feeling. I guess that makes me twisted, but I loved Silence of the Lambs and I loved Gone Girl. The credits began to roll and there was not a voice to be heard. The crew had finally been silenced. Nobody knew what to say – and that’s the testament to a great movie. Everyone sits there, trying to digest what just happened and then all get up and walk out like quiet little zombies.
I got home and Rob asked how the movie was, “That movie was messed up! I feel so messed up. I need to write it out.”
“Don’t tell me,” said Rob, “I want to see it – no spoilers.”
“I won’t spoil it – go see it. Preferably without a bunch of 60 year olds.”