I had to work on Saturday (grrr) and what with Cindy working late into the night every night until next Thursday, and since I was out of the house anyway, I took it upon myself to see Iron Man all alone (yes, I took one for the team, I'm a great guy, what can I say?).
It was a nearly full theater - I had strangers to either side of me for the whole film, despite my carefully orchestrated early arrival and sitting down in an empty row.
A woman was sitting to my left - I never did see her face. She was light haired, was wearing very pretty flip flops (I'm sure they're called Designer Sandals when you buy them at Nordstrom's) and seemed generally a nice sort. She chatted very softly with her man on and off throughout the film, but since they whispered so softly it didn't trouble me (so it must have been very softly indeed).
The endearing thing about this woman was how much empathy she had. When Tony Stark stubbed a toe, she gasped and cringed - she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. When Tony kicked ass and took names, she was right there for him, woo!ing and yeah!ing right along with the rest of us.
I think it would be fair to say I enjoyed the movie more because she was sitting next to me - her immersion and suspension of disbelief was infectious - I was drawn in deeper thanks to her. "Thanks, Lady in Pretty Flip Flops" I thought.
(I've always considered movie-watching to be a solitary thing - you might attend a movie together, but you're essentially sitting alone in the dark for 2 hours. Iron Man makes me rethink this theory.)
Then, as we waited as the credits rolled for Samuel L. Jackson to make his post-credits cameo, she was chatting it up with her man, and I realized what an OMG LOL As-If Talk to the Hand type-girl she was. Ah well. Still, her contribution to my experience remains.
It was a nearly full theater - I had strangers to either side of me for the whole film, despite my carefully orchestrated early arrival and sitting down in an empty row.
A woman was sitting to my left - I never did see her face. She was light haired, was wearing very pretty flip flops (I'm sure they're called Designer Sandals when you buy them at Nordstrom's) and seemed generally a nice sort. She chatted very softly with her man on and off throughout the film, but since they whispered so softly it didn't trouble me (so it must have been very softly indeed).
The endearing thing about this woman was how much empathy she had. When Tony Stark stubbed a toe, she gasped and cringed - she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. When Tony kicked ass and took names, she was right there for him, woo!ing and yeah!ing right along with the rest of us.
I think it would be fair to say I enjoyed the movie more because she was sitting next to me - her immersion and suspension of disbelief was infectious - I was drawn in deeper thanks to her. "Thanks, Lady in Pretty Flip Flops" I thought.
(I've always considered movie-watching to be a solitary thing - you might attend a movie together, but you're essentially sitting alone in the dark for 2 hours. Iron Man makes me rethink this theory.)
Then, as we waited as the credits rolled for Samuel L. Jackson to make his post-credits cameo, she was chatting it up with her man, and I realized what an OMG LOL As-If Talk to the Hand type-girl she was. Ah well. Still, her contribution to my experience remains.
although i love this post, and totally "get" what you're saying, aiya--you sound a bit lonely!
ReplyDeletehope you and cindy get some r&r this weekend