My husband and I watch movies together. When I pick them.
We’ve adored The Color Purple, Thelma and Louise, Boys on the Side. We love sci-fi, all the different permutations of “people trapped in a metal tube in space/underwater/in time/somewhere and menaced by a monster/vampire/creature/mother-in-law.” We go back and forth on comedies (intelligent) and dramas (psychological). Musicals line one whole shelf on the entertainment center, from Phantom to Rent.
When we saw the trailer for Bruce Willis’ latest Die Hard movie last summer, it was a no-brainer. ANY movie where a car can take out a helicopter mid-air is just something we had to see immediately. (It was cool. Really.)
For some reason, I have this innate talent that extends to his taste in films. For the most part, he enjoys movies I choose. (Okay, that weird French movie about the schoolgirls with the ribbons and the gimpy teachers was wrong. I admit it! Wrong!) But 9 out of 10 movies I pick, he likes as well as I do.
It doesn’t work the other way.
If he heads out to MegaMovie store, he’ll come home with two or three movies and I’ll look at them and think, “What?”
I can’t even pinpoint why not. There are some movies I just don’t watch, like gory horror flicks, that he can watch with my daughter or our friend Chase. But even the regular films are often just not on my wave length. He knows it. Any more, he insists I choose the movies, because he knows I’ll just wander off to do something else. (Never an end of something else to do around here, of course.)
And that’s the weird part. He won’t watch then. Just like I don’t watch movies on the evenings he teaches. For us, a movie is a time to travel together to another place so we can experience something special. That two hours in the dark focused on the screen is a bonding experience that draws us closer, something we still need to make sure we do regularly after eight years.
Then we return to our regular world, hoping the Force is still with us, knowing there’s no place like home, there’s no crying in baseball, and the ultimate movie truth: if they build it, you’ll trip over it in the middle of the night and break your leg.