The Oscars are Sunday and I’ll be watching.
Not because I’m an award-show freak, but because I love Ellen. And she’s hosting.
But since I’ll be tuning in, I decided I should educate myself on the major motion pictures of the year. So I’ve seen two.
Dallas Buyers Club (watched it twice, cried both times).
And today: Gravity.
While I watched it, I carried on a conversation via Google Hangout with a friend 835 miles away in Kentucky. We talked about grown-up stuff, like how I’m getting old and crotchety (I said that, not her), the car loan I’m stressing out about, the family business she helps run, and how I’d like “my” room in their new house to be on the ground floor because my knees have a hard time with stairs.
So while I watched and we talked, I reviewed the film with her. I thought I’d share:
2:15 p.m. Me: “Have you seen Gravity? I’m watching it right now. I wanted to see it before Sunday’s Oscars.
2:17 p.m. Brooke: “Let me know how it is. I mean, I’m not going to watch it, but it would be nice to have the cliff notes on it.”
2:43 p.m. Me: “This movie is dumb.”
2:44 p.m. Brooke: “Is it moving?”
2:44 p.m. Me: “Not yet. It’s cliche. George Cooney dies by floating off into space.”
2:45 p.m. Brooke: “Why did he do that?”
2:46 p.m. Me: “It’s one of those “stuff is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better. He had to cut himself loose to save her. Sounds dramatic but it really wasnt.”
2:47 p.m. Brooke: “Sounds pretty dramatic.”
2:48 p.m. Me: “She Finally made it into the rescue thing – the international space station but now it’s on fire. And there’s some Russian debris floating around outside. Sounds dramatic but very corny and cliche.”
2:49 p.m. Me: “And now she doesn’t know how to drive the escape pid. Panic ensues.”
2:50 p.m. Brooke: “Um, sounds like something they might teach you before you leave earth.”
2:50 p.m. Me: “She crashed the simulator every time, she said. This is a bad day at the office.”
2:52 p.m. Me: “Clear skies with a chance of satellite debris,” she just said. Who wrote that cheesy line?!”
2:58 p.m. Me: “This movie is ridiculous.”
3:01 p.m. Me: “She is howling like a dog in the space shuttle. And crying. I am unmoved.”
3:06 p.m. Me: “Clooney didn’t die! He just came back. I don’t know where you hang out in space but he did.”
3:08 p.m. Me: “He rescues her every time. I remember that being a criticism of the movie. She can’t do anything without him.”
3:08 p.m. Brooke: “How did he not die?!?!?!?! That is so cheesy.”
3:09 p.m. Me: “Oh wait. It was a dillusion. He’s still dead.”
3:09 p.m. Brooke: “So she dreamed it.”
3:10 p.m. Me: “Yeah. He rescued her in her dreams.”
3:10 p.m. Brooke: “Well, that’s better because you simply cannot fly out into space and survive.”
3:12 p.m. Me: “Yeah. Not plausible.”
3:29 p.m. Me: “She crashed into land. She crawled onto a shoreline somewhere. I imagine shes hungry. Triumphant music. The end.”
3:30 p.m. Brooke: “Did she get to eat?”
3:31 p.m. Me: “We are not privileged to see that.”
3:32 p.m. Brooke: “So it was more cheesy than moving?”
3:33 p.m. Me: “Oh yes. Total cheese ball.”
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