Need Movie Review? Flush!

Thank heaven for ladies' rooms. Especially at the movies. Once your movie lets out, every woman dashes there, and in between the flushes and rolling paper, you often hear salient discussions of the movie that just ended. I am sure men do not discuss the movie over the urinals. But in the ladies' room, listening to anonymous comments as you piddle is like watching the extra features on a DVD. Fun, and often instructive.

For instance, last night we went to see The Ghostwriter, Roman Polanski's latest film. I had read some amazing reviews, describing the film as suspenseful and "Hitchcockian." Reviewers don't usually toss Hitch around lightly, so I figured it must be good. Plus, it wasn't at the multiplex, but at the "art house" which also has an impressive concession array. More than Goobers, Dots, and popcorn. They have Dots and popcorn, of course, but also herbal tea, flavored coffee and cream cheese filled hot pretzels. I did not eat any, but knowing they were there made me feel confident that this was a movie for people like me: plump and intelligent.

So we got seats at exactly the perfect part of the theatre (not too far up, not too far back, centered). We watched, and I tried to understand it. Really I did. I kept waiting for all the "twists" and "double punches" a reviewer had mentioned, especially the one at the end. The foreboding dunes, the cold New England rain and the music...especially the music: these effects convinced me that there was a sinister plot twist coming any second now. Wait for it. Wait for it. I kept waiting. The gray, misty, stormy scenery made the film seem black and white even though it was in color, and thus did remind me of Rebecca, one of my all time favorite Hitchcock flicks. Soon the twists were coming...any second. But when the surprise came at the end, it was one of those "What?" moments for me. I didn't get it. My husband said he did, but husbands will never admit if they don't get it. 

I was saved from my incomprehensibility in the place it is always best to do so: a safe haven where you can keep your stupidity anonymous--the ladies' room. When I entered the stall, some women were already discussing the film. I jumped into the fray. "Why did she do it?" I asked to someone out there. One unseen but savvy "stall-mate" called out an answer. "Remember the part where they said she always gave her husband advice? Well, that's why..." she went on. Now I got it!

By the time I flushed, my movie mentor was gone, but as I washed my hands, I realized that without this ladies' room discusssion, I would have thought I was an idiot who couldn't get this sophisticated "smart" film. Now I realized that I didn't get it because there wasn't much to get. The big end surprise was that there was no surprise.

Instead of reading reviews, maybe I should start going to the ladies' room after the last show lets out, before my movie starts. Women know their movies. Unless it has George Clooney, but if it's got Clooney, I'm with them: who cares about the plot?