Sarastotle and I have very…discerning taste when it comes to movies. Oh yes. Quite right. Only the very best for us!
Quality entertainment.
We had absolutely nothing to do the other night–all of our essays and exams were done, and we had already slathered on some shiny new makeup (Sarastotle had recently purchased some glorious pink lipstick and I had just replaced seven-year-old blush [ewwwwwwwww]) for something to do. We were bored, which was an entirely foreign experience to us. Sarastotle’s the brilliant one: she said, “hey, wanna watch a movie?”
More like a rom-dram.
It turns out she had the perfect movie for the evening: the total sobfest, Lady Jane. It stars everybody I love: Helena Bonham Carter, Cary Elwes, PATRICK STEWART, and a half-dozen ugly dresses (gracing both men and women). It also allowed Sarastotle and I to bond over our shared love of the Royal Diaries tween book series of fake diaries of historical female monarchs (specifically, Elizabeth I: Red Rose of the House of Tudor), and books by Carolyn Meyer about various doomed Tudor family members (specifically, the masterpiece Beware, Princess Elizabeth).
This is a different night, by the way. We didn’t just get up and change chips halfway through the evening.
We have a movie night like this every once in a while; well…usually, the movies don’t include executions. We once attended a Classics screening of the movie 300 and spent the movie cringing in the front row as dismembered limbs flew about the screen, kicking their formerly attached bodies in the face or splattering gore. I can’t handle that! Interestingly, I have no problems with seeing real blood or dealing with injury; I was this close to going into Sciences rather than Arts when I was choosing a university, to become a forensic pathologist. Maybe it’s the slo-mo in movies that makes me feel nauseous.
With only a year to go, we’re not going to have very many more movie nights; this makes me sad as can be. I’m going to be raiding my parent’s DVD collection this summer to bring the very sappiest and fluffiest of rom-coms back to Montreal for next year’s movie-viewing. We started our movie adventures with Letters to Juliet way back in first year; it’ll be hopelessly depressing, but we’ll probably end our uni movie-watching with the same sappy movie.
Rom-coms for ever (4 evah!)!
Players of Prince Arthur 