You're Going To Cry Too
Every few months, a group of moms from my church all go out to a late-night movie. We like to go mid-week, so that the theater is empty, and usually to a 10:00 show so that our kids are already asleep. This makes for a completely stress and guilt free outing. We also choose movies that our husbands would rather die than see. Past showings have included "The Notebook", "Connie and Carla", and "Spanglish". See what I mean? Did you take your husband to any of those? I didn't think so. But you totally know YOU wanted to see them!
We got together again last night to see "Pride and Prejudice". And holy leaky eyeballs batman, what a movie. It was... well, there are no words. It was just magnificent in every way. I am a HUGE Jane Austen junkie and have spent much of my life wishing that I was born as a character in one of her books instead of a boring old modern American. (But not Fanny Dashwood. She's a meanie.) This remake of "Pride and Prejudice" was sublime. It was so beautifully filmed and acted and directed. And of course, so very romantic. Mr. Darcy really knows how to make a girl go weak in the knees.
I never used to cry during movies before I had kids. The only movies I can remember shedding tears at are "Titanic" and "Dead Man Walking". Well, and "Bambi". But I can't be blamed for that because I was five and his mother died. Heartbreaking! After my kids were born, though, it's like the floodgates burst open. Or like they have a touchy release valve or something. The slightest tender moment, and I'm a goner. "I Am Sam"? Cried like a baby. "Phantom of the Opera"? Bawled my brains out. Nemo on Ice? I dampened a tissue or two. But this movie... this movie my friends, almost killed me. I nearly collapsed on the sticky theater floor in a crunchy dehydrated heap. I lost all control over my tear ducts, and they apparently took that as a signal to purge themselves of all liquid. The crying began during Mr. Darcy's long walk across the dew-kissed meadow at dawn, into Elizabeth's waiting arms. Mr. Darcy walked, the music swelled and I was gone. I didn't stop until the final credits rolled when the sound of my loving and supportive friends' mocking laughter brought me out of my reverie. For photo evidence, see the Daring Young Mom's account of our movie date. The blurry head bent over their lap? That's me. The person taking this damning evidence with their cell phone camera? Let's call her the Taunting Young Mom from now on.
I left the theater last night feeling delightfully and giddily romantic. It was such a better experience than when I saw the "Blair Witch Project" on the big screen and couldn't sleep for a week. (Never been camping since, by the way.) I like it when movies leave me feeling calm and content. When my faith in the goodness of humanity is restored, and my belief in everlasting love is renewed. I snuggled up close to my husband when I got home, simply and perfectly happy just to have his arms around me. It's good to be reminded that no matter what crazy twists and turns life throws my way, as long as I have my Mr. Darcy I can make it through.
We got together again last night to see "Pride and Prejudice". And holy leaky eyeballs batman, what a movie. It was... well, there are no words. It was just magnificent in every way. I am a HUGE Jane Austen junkie and have spent much of my life wishing that I was born as a character in one of her books instead of a boring old modern American. (But not Fanny Dashwood. She's a meanie.) This remake of "Pride and Prejudice" was sublime. It was so beautifully filmed and acted and directed. And of course, so very romantic. Mr. Darcy really knows how to make a girl go weak in the knees.
I never used to cry during movies before I had kids. The only movies I can remember shedding tears at are "Titanic" and "Dead Man Walking". Well, and "Bambi". But I can't be blamed for that because I was five and his mother died. Heartbreaking! After my kids were born, though, it's like the floodgates burst open. Or like they have a touchy release valve or something. The slightest tender moment, and I'm a goner. "I Am Sam"? Cried like a baby. "Phantom of the Opera"? Bawled my brains out. Nemo on Ice? I dampened a tissue or two. But this movie... this movie my friends, almost killed me. I nearly collapsed on the sticky theater floor in a crunchy dehydrated heap. I lost all control over my tear ducts, and they apparently took that as a signal to purge themselves of all liquid. The crying began during Mr. Darcy's long walk across the dew-kissed meadow at dawn, into Elizabeth's waiting arms. Mr. Darcy walked, the music swelled and I was gone. I didn't stop until the final credits rolled when the sound of my loving and supportive friends' mocking laughter brought me out of my reverie. For photo evidence, see the Daring Young Mom's account of our movie date. The blurry head bent over their lap? That's me. The person taking this damning evidence with their cell phone camera? Let's call her the Taunting Young Mom from now on.
I left the theater last night feeling delightfully and giddily romantic. It was such a better experience than when I saw the "Blair Witch Project" on the big screen and couldn't sleep for a week. (Never been camping since, by the way.) I like it when movies leave me feeling calm and content. When my faith in the goodness of humanity is restored, and my belief in everlasting love is renewed. I snuggled up close to my husband when I got home, simply and perfectly happy just to have his arms around me. It's good to be reminded that no matter what crazy twists and turns life throws my way, as long as I have my Mr. Darcy I can make it through.
November 17, 2005