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dianeduane
One couch. Two wizards. One bowl of popcorn (at the moment). One cranky and difficult entertainment system.
“Why this one?”
A shrug. “Everybody says it’s this classic, but I’ve never seen it all the way through.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen any of it at all.”
“Good. …God, was there ever a time when titles were so short?”
“Was that it? You’re kidding me.”
“…Wow, that is the cheapest looking globe ever. Look how the clouds are covering up the bottom so you can’t see what it’s spinning on.”
“Look at that poor guy juggling. How long do you think he had to do that while they were shooting? ‘Can I please stop juggling now? Please?!’”
“Look! Picchus on a stick!”
“It’s a basket, actually.”
“Basket on a stick!”
“Hey, there’s the monkey from Raiders of the Lost Ark!”
A snicker. “’Round up all suspicious characters!’ Well, that’s everybody we know.”
“Nice car…”
“Yeah, if they can all keep from falling out of it.”
“Did you put anything in this popcorn?”
“What? No.”
“Why is it spicy?”
“It’s the chili one. It’s all we’ve got. Carmela ate all the plain kind over the weekend.”
“She keeps doing that.”
“I know, I keep telling her to leave at least one, but noooooo…”
“And she doesn’t replace it.”
“Count yourself lucky. She brought some caramel popcorn back from the Crossings a couple weeks ago. Or it was supposed to be caramel.” Scornful laughter ensues.
“No good?”
“Total waste of time. There was this awful aftertaste. ‘Genuine Earth Seasonings’, it said. Only if you mean earth as in dirt.”
“Bleah.”
“No kidding.”
“Where did they get those hats? Seriously.”
“French. Wait, I thought this was Africa. Oh, wait, they were there for a while, weren’t they.”
“Yeah. At least I think so. That whole last world history unit, I was asleep for it. If we have to have history, why can’t we have Mr. Mack teaching it? At least he made it interesting.”
“This guy’s getting real chummy with these people.”
“Look at his hand. It’ll be in that guy’s pocket in a minute.”
“Yep, there he goes.”
“You’re going to have to make more of this.”
“Yeah. Look at that. Everyone’s wearing hats. I mean everyone.”
“Some of them are better than others. That little guy’s.”
“I like his mustache. I think he must be important.”
“Why, because of the mustache?”
“No. Screen time. Wait, look at the cafe.”
“The piano guy, he’s got a great jacket.”
“And a nice face. Who are all these people?”
“If I could hear the dialogue we might find out…”
“You’re talking as much as I am.”
“No I’m not.”
“You are.”
A groan. “Run it back…”
A brief pause for rewind: then the movie starts again.
Silence for a while, broken by the sounds of munching and the gulping of soft drinks.Then, “Those papers he’s showing the owner…”
“Something important.”
“Think so.”
Another pause. “Somebody’s gonna get shot.”
After a while: “Well, you were right about that. No fair using wizardry.”
“I didn’t.”
“Or looking it up on IMdB.”
“I didn’t. Hardly takes a visionary for this…”
“It’s funny… after a while you forget it’s in black and white. …Oh look, here come the cartoon Nazis.”
“Not so cartoon. Wait…”
“What?”
“Now she is really pretty.”
“Yeah.”
“…Where did all the popcorn go?”
“I know where most of it went. Go make more.”
“Okay. Hey, Sanjuro, pause!”
Sudden silence.
“And who is Sanjuro?”
“That’s the DVR.”
“Wait, has he gone self-aware all of a sudden? You didn’t tell me.”
“Recent development. Popi had them put in a bigger drive.”
“It shouldn’t work like that. It’s usually memory…”
“Don’t ask me. I just work here.”
“That’s not what Carmela says…”
“Hah.”
A pause: kitchen noises, microwave noises, popcorn popping. Then someone flops back down on the couch again. “Okay, San, roll it.”
The film resumes. “…And here’s another one.”
“Another what?”
“Spy. This thing is full of spies. Oh, and here’s your guy with the hat again. He looks better without it.”
Some silence while more plot is absorbed. “Uh oh… here’s your piano guy with the pretty lady...”
“He looks mortified.”
“Yeah.”
“…Was that just the longest closeup in history?”
“Might be a candidate.”
“Whoops!!”
“Oh wow.”
A sudden hush of interest from both sides.
“…Huh. Aren’t we all trying to be casual.”
"Not fooling anybody..."
More quiet as events ensue and the screen slides into mostly darkness with painful highlights, and the sound system points up the sound of a desperate fist pounded on a table and a voice gone rough with anguish.
“…I think I love Sam.”
Things go misty with prolonged flashback. “'No questions,' huh…”
“Has to be that way. I have a feeling if all these people weren’t keeping secrets from each other, there wouldn’t be a story…”
“…That is some bathrobe.”
And then a lot more silence, and a train station in the rain; water running down a last-minute letter, washing away the ink like tears. Flashback transforms itself into the now, and a flare of white appears in the back of the shadowy shot. Bitter words spill out, full eyes gleam in the cruel light; old wounds are reopened, understated anguish floods the screen.
Initial responses are somewhat delayed. “Ow.”
Silence then for a while, until the presence of “another Picchu!” is remarked on, as well as “more amazing hats”. Then meetings, muttered conversations, and a vital piece of information dropped that makes the eyes of an onscreen husband and a wife widen for different reasons. Things speed up: fistfights break out; intrigue deepens. Love in a dark dress speaks desperately to pain in a light jacket and begs for its help; pain gasps for breath and shies away from itself, and then—unbearably, unpredictably—acts according to its deeper nature.
Things go quiet on the couch. The popcorn has long since gone cold, and without realizing it two wizards are sitting some inches closer together than they were before. Dark irony, without his hat on, comes along to poke Pain in a sensitive spot—just before the surface of the drama is ruffled by outbreaks of patriotic singing and brute power ever so briefly defied.
This is familiar territory for these two, though here it arrives in an unexpected form, and both of them recognize the rhythm of matters coming slowly and inevitably to a head. In the shadows of the room above Rick’s, Love (in its other, lighter dress) and Pain (now out of the hopeless, straightforward regions of bitterness and groping his way through the more difficult-to-navigate landscapes of sarcasm and hopelessness) meet and grapple for advantage. Both lose, surrender, and prepare to change roles…
“Still a story without an ending,” says Pain, mulling over the prospects. No further comments are passed from the couch, though there are occasional murmurs of agreement at some of the lines: “Stop fighting our enemies, the world will die.” “Each of us has a destiny for good, for evil.” And the shadow of Sacrifice, obscurely splendid as usual, suddenly spreads its wings broad and dark across the storyline.
Definitely familiar territory, now. “It seems that Destiny has taken a hand,” the story tells them, and this too is a concept they’re all too familiar with. Pain and dark Irony go a last couple of rounds of attempted mutual deception with one another, though who’s actually deceived is up in the air. Final arrangements are made… and then things break loose. Plots and counterplots work themselves out; apparent betrayals are produced and brandished like weapons, changing hands as quickly.
Finally, in the fog of a halfseen runway, as a plane rolls up, Love—one-third in a trenchcoat, one-third in a jacket, one-third in yet another amazing hat—explains matters to itself and prepares to take wing. The Lone Power’s local representative tries to force the issue to Its advantage, and comes off badly. In the aftermath, aircraft engines roar away into the sky and Vichy water is dumped in the bin; Irony (about to change employers) and Love’s trenchcoated avatar stroll off across the wet tarmac to start forging their beautiful friendship, and the Marseillaise plays.
Several moments of silence elapse. And then one voice says:
“It’s shorter than I thought.”
“Yeah.”
A few quiet moments more. And then:
“What next?”
“Ghostbusters?”
“Ghostbusters.”
One wizard exits to make more popcorn. The other sits still, and (when sure the other's out of earshot) tries out the words, just once, sotto voce:
"Here's looking at you, kid..."
<(To the master post with links to the other days of the challenge)
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no subject
Date: 2012-11-19 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-19 03:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-19 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-19 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-19 09:43 pm (UTC)Well, Double Indemnity, The Lady Eve, the Thin Man movies, and a few others also rank up there too. And Pepe le Moko, the French original version of Algiers. And... well, I could go on.
no subject
Date: 2012-11-19 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-20 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-20 05:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-20 08:11 am (UTC)Reverence
Date: 2012-11-20 05:50 pm (UTC)This is my favorite movie of all time.