On Sunday, instead of watching the Super Bowl like sensible people, Rachelle and I went to see a movie instead.
I petitioned for The Grey. “Liam Neeson tapes glass to his knuckles and punches wolves! It’s going to be awesome!”
Rachelle was intrigued but thought the combination of Tom Hardy and Colin Firth that Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy offered would trump Liam Neeson beating up wolves. I was happy to go either way, after all, we’d heard that Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy was taut, stylish and intelligent, which if I’d been thinking I would have realized was simply code for it being a movie that critics liked more than audiences.
Well, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is one of those “designed for the Oscar” movies. A prestige picture that focuses like a laser on middle-brow sensibilities and an oft-over looked demographic, hopeful that the audience will be caught by “acting,” “subtle acting,” and the meticulous recreation of a notoriously dreary era. Think the King’s Speech, only minus the charming camp, and you have an idea of the movie’s intentions. It’s all about plot, with too many characters and no regard whatsoever for their interior lives. In short, it’s a spy book dependent on gestural subtext and invisible mechanics, that’s been turned into a movie. And really, who would think that such a thing a good idea? Would that really translate into a worthwhile cinematic experience?
Unlike action-first spy movies like the Bourne franchise, this literary translation doesn’t work as a movie, and the “slow burn” crowd, mostly critics concentrated on formal aspects of the film that were well executed, ignore the inescapable and highly important fact that the movie is very, very boring. It was a smoky cloud of disinformation blown in our faces, and I couldn’t have cared less what the outcome of the movie was, trying instead to appreciate the wardrobe and aesthetic of the film until I stopped caring about that, too.
The non Super-Bowl crowd we were amidst– mostly older—all seemed restless and sleepy, and it was amusing to turn from the screen and watch them.
“Rachelle, look, that guy over there is asleep.”
Rachelle looked back. “His mouth is wide open and he’s making faint gurgling sounds. His girlfriend is disgusted, but I think she’s mostly angry that he’s sleeping while she’s left to watch.”
“That woman is playing Angry Birds.” I noticed.
“Ah,” Rachelle said, “that’s cute. An elderly woman just curled up into her husband’s shoulder to have a nap!”
“The man over there is attempting to do the Sudoko in his newspaper, but he can’t see it properly in the dark. He’s trying to do it quickly, when there are illuminating flashes of light on the screen.”
“That couple is doing Rock-Paper-Scissors!”
And then about an hour and a half into the movie a woman shouted out, “The Giants just scored a field goal, they’re now only down by two!”
Pretty much everybody in the theatre laughed at this, three people took it as an opportunity to leave, and the rest of us, well, we stayed, determined to get exactly what we deserved.
