A few weeks back Chef went for a new job. I dropped him off at the interview (because the parking is horrendous in the area where it is) and was just going to drive around exploring the area while he was in there pitching himself as the next best thing. What we both thought would be half an hour turned out to be closer to an hour, but that was OK because for once Virginia VitTrioli was being quite gentle.
Her regular film reviewer was on talking about this little film he’d seen. How the story of the film mirrored in part the life of one of the people in the film. Or something like that. The details are hazy because I was concentrating on the road and imagining my life living in one of these spectacular waterfront apartments. But what caught me was the way this guy was talking about the film. He kept saying that people would listen to him and go expecting some masterpiece and that the film wasn’t that at all, just this quiet, moving, touching tale. And how knowing the back story made it all the more poignant for him. But then there was the clincher. At one point he choked up. On air. Talking about this movie. The dude got teary.
So I knew. I knew that the quiet promise I’d made myself for Thursdays to be my day that I would do something for me as only Grover would be in my care. I had this idea that I’d see films regularly as part of that promise. And sit in cafes and catch up with friends. Instead, the reality is I tended to stay home, unshowered, sitting on the couch and eating myself into oblivion. Project Boombalardy has put an end to the last part but I was still having to find the energy and confidence to actually leave the house.
It’s called Once.
I saw it yesterday.
And indeed, it was so worth it.