lixlove

Last week Nate and I went to our local movie theater to see Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.  As we searched for seats we noticed that we were the youngest people in the audience by about 35 years.  I was also the blackest person in the audience by about 100-fold but that is an unfortunate reality I’ve come to accept in Tampa (maybe everyone else went opening week). We settled into our seats between two sets of seniors.

Tinker Tailor is about British intelligence agents seeking out a mole during the cold war.  The movie opens with John Hurt giving an agent detailed and specific instructions for an operation.  The agent is soon at an undercover meeting with a Hungarian spy.  Between the details of the operation, real names that sound like code names, code names that sound like real names, and subtitles, I said to myself, “Alix, you’re going to have to pay close attention to this movie or you will be lost in about 5 minutes.” I sat up in my seat and focused intently on Gary Oldman.

Shortly thereafter, the couple next to me started to speak to each other.  The wife was confused by the plot.  The husband tried to help but he was equally lost.

Who’s that?

Huh?

What’s he doing there?

Who?

Is that happening now or before? 

Now! It’s now!

They had the courtesy to use a “whisper-like” inflection but were still speaking loud enough for everyone around them to experience their conversation.  Kind of like walking though an intersection but pumping your arms in a running-like motion to signal to the waiting cars that you have the courtesy to hurry but you are still going to walk at normal speed.

The talk-whispers continued as we moved further into Gary Oldman’s mole hunt.  Tinker Tailor is a movie that is quietly intense and intensely quiet.  The score is quiet and understated.  The dialogue is rich with details when there is dialogue.  Otherwise, the film is filled with intense stares, glares and glances.  Oldman stares suspiciously over his shoulder.  Colin Firth glances furtively across the room to Toby Jones.  Toby Jones crooks an inquisitive eyebrow towards Ciaran Hinds.  (Poor Ciaran Hinds only has about four lines in the movie, but his annoyed frowns are the best.)  Hinds frowns at Oldman.  Oldman frowns disapprovingly at Benedict Cumberbatch. Cumberbatch glares at Tom Hardy.  Hardy stares longingly at his Russian lover.  She stares back at him with sad desperation.  You get the idea. These looks stand in place of dialogue that turns out to be unnecessary with top-rate, quirky-looking actors.  Characters are never greeted with words.  They just look at each other and sigh.

.

This is a great movie and it didn’t end up being too difficult to follow on its own, but the chatter next to me was distracting and beginning to piss me off.  In addition to an endless tide of pointless questions (what’s that on her face? Who? Her face? What? I think it’s a mole.) the husband spent a good 10 minutes trying to moisten his mouth. Any saliva-related noises make me nauseous.  I wished my friend B. was there.  She would not have hesitated to tell them to shut their pie-holes before the end of the opening credits.  The couple couldn’t see my own disapproving glares in the dark.  I missed my chance to be diplomatic and my frustration was boiling over into anger.  I signaled to Nate that we needed to change seats.  After relocating we soon learned that the couple next to us was also engaged in Mystery Medicare Theater 3000.

It’s official.  Old white people have replaced black people as the most annoying people in movie theaters.  Or maybe independent international movies are to baby boomers what Tyler Perry movies are to (some) black people – a community experience meant to be shared and overshared with your compatriots.  I recommend seeing Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and I highly recommend seeing it after 10:00 PM.