Monday, January 28, 2008


So, my lovely wife and I finally got our opportunity to see There Will Be Blood this weekend and, it's always difficult for me to prepare myself for close to three hours of cinema, but I had wanted to see this since long back in December. I was ready. Not sure if my lovely wife was. Generally, we believe that if you're accomplished filmmaker, two hours should be enough for you.

Well, the movie was bad ass. It's a complicated tale that bares warning to the lure of greed and its impact on the human spirit as well as a classic good versus evil spin presented in a haunting manner by a jaw-dropping performance by Daniel Day-Lewis. Yes, his performance is that good.

At the end of the movie, the theater that was about three-quarters full rose to their feet--some began chattering excitedly, others offered a joyous chuckle. The folks behind me complained.

"Only four people died?! Only four people died!"

Apparently, the title of the movie was a little too heady for the Yellow. I decided to sit back while the credits rolled because I was particularly interested where the movie was shot. As I'm sitting there in the now-empty theater, I'm approached by this figure out of the darkness. He's walking directly toward me just a row in front of me. This fumbling idiot voice pours out.

"Was this movie good?"

I sit there ignoring him at first.

"Was it good?"

I nod. He leans in closer.

"This is that movie with Dennis Lewis, right?"

"Daniel Day-Lewis, yes."

"Oh, that's right."

He stands there for a moment or two longer during which time I positively identify this moron as the one, the only...Dr. Goldstick the "Optometrist." He was alone. Looking alone. Very alone. Part of me wanted to pity him with his medium cola and popcorn for one. But I didn't. I just sat there and ignored him in my perfect pair of glasses that took him two attempts at my prescription strength meanwhile suggesting that I had an astigmatism as well as eyes that were in a severe state of degredation and soon I would be blind if I continued to alternate between my glasses and contacts. I wanted to tell him, "Hey, Goldstick, still not blind!"

As we made our way home, I stopped off to get gas. As I was in paying, a kid was walking away from the counter and, laughing, said to the guy at the register, "Drinking beer and chasing women--that's what I do!" He must've been fifteen years old.

I gotta get outta here. It's Monday. I'm hopped up on magnesium now. Results are inconclusive as of now. Still the baddest bruxer you ever knew. Don't forget it.

No comments: