Short people...

The final part of Friday's day off was a trip to the cinema with the husband.  I had suggested this film having seen the trailer last week when we went to see Darkest Hour, and the husband, ever the one for a quiet life, agreed that he wanted to see it to.

Sitting in the cinema with twelve other people (I should have known), the husband leant over to me and whispered, 'I love everything Meryl Streep does'.  

'Me too', I said, quietly diving into my popcorn.

'I thought we might have seen her by now.  And Tom Hanks', he whispered.

'But they're not in this film', I whispered.  'That's The Post you're thinking about'.

Pause...

'What's this then?  I thought we were coming to the The Post'.  (Whisper slightly raised at this point).

'No', said I.  'This is Downsizing.  The funny film about people being shrunk.  The one with the vodka bottle'.

'Oh.  Well I've been telling everyone all day that I was going to see The Post'.

'Well you're not, so shut up and eat your popcorn'.

So let's talk about Downsizing, shall we.  Now I thought this was meant to be a comedy, and I spend the first hour chortling loudly at various things.  It was after a particularly loud guffaw (at the stereotypical Vietnamese cleaner with a leg missing) that the husband turned to me again, and said that as I was the only person who was laughing, perhaps it wasn't a comedy after all, but a serious film about the possible end of the world thanks to careless humans and f*rting cows.

So I stopped laughing, at which point the film became very daft and very boring.  We did make it to the end, although the husband started fidgeting and muttering about an hour from the end (yes, it was that long).

As the closing credits rolled, he said to me, loud enough for the other twelve people to hear, 'That was the worst film I've seen since Watership Down'.

Now that was at the cinema in 1978, so I would imagine that he either hasn't seen many films over the last forty years, or he has forgotten about various films which we have walked out of before the end.

I'm still trying to forget the seventeen minutes of my life which I'll never get back involving Into The Woods...


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