Friday, August 19, 2005
Scene 6, in which Kitty Has a Close Call
For a split second (or five) I really thought one of them was going to hit me.
The two younger women who were dressed exactly alike appeared to have come to the movie together. They were disappointed in the ending. Me and You and Everyone We Know simply did not wrap up the way they had expected it to. It just stopped. There was no closure. The other woman just didn’t seem to get it. She didn’t like it.
Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped into their conversation, but I loved the film. I was exhilarated. And isn’t half the fun of a great production -- or hell even a bad one -- talking about it? I engaged them before I even knew I was speaking.
“That’s the different between art and Hollywood,” I pointed out. “Art doesn’t answer questions. It asks them.”
They glared at me like who the hell is this know-it-all to tell us what’s what. I didn’t mean to come off as snide or snobbish or anything. But I had clearly disturbed their bitch fest. I had not been invited to the party. I ran to my friends for protection and held my breath until the danger had passed.
