Jeff and I saw The King's Speech last night. It was great, although trying to cure Colin Firth of his adorable stammer is like trying to burn Cindy Crawford's mole off with the head of a match, or trying to file down Tom Cruise's crazy, off-center saber-tooth so he looks slightly less like the insane man you saw on the B train yelling that his vagina was on fire.
The movie was great, but what I always look forward to the most are the previews. I LOVE PREVIEWS. You know those times when you're sitting in a movie theater and there are like an interminable number of previews, and every time the new green screen comes on people start groaning? FUCK THOSE GUYS. Previews RULE.
As I get older, I react to previews much in the same way my father does: I pantomime my opinion of the movie. If something looks good I nod, or give the thumbs-up sign to Jeff. If something looks sad, I feign weeping into my popcorn, my silent wails filling the theater. If something looks bad, I roll my eyes or pretend to projectile vomit all over the backs of the heads of the people in the next row.
Jeff has a different method: He summarizes each movie in three words. For example, after seeing the tender, dramatic preview for Blue Valentine, he leaned over and whispered "Vagina estrogen feelings." And then, after the preview for Mike Leigh's latest heartfelt Brit-flick, Another Year, he thought for a moment before deeming it "Sad English wrinkle."
Sad English Wrinkle*. Another fine band name. 2011 is looking pretty bright, folks. Pretty fucking bright.
*Although, would this confuse fans of The Rolling Stones? (Sorry, Mom.)