Movie Night

We have become a couple who rarely goes out. That is, without the kids.

We moved six months ago, and I have yet to cross off "Find Babysitter" from my to-do list.

Actually, I think there is a babysitter living right next door, but I just haven't picked up the phone to call her. Yet.

[This is reminding me that I keep meaning to write a post on my problems with procrastination. Later, though. Maybe tomorrow.]

So other than Children's Museums, grilled-cheese-serving restaurants and neighborhood parties, we really don't get out. Together, anyway.

Instead we find ourselves putting the kids to bed early on weekend nights, pouring our favorite cocktail and popping in a movie rental. By the time Saturday night rolls around we want nothing more than to sit mindlessly in front of the tv while sipping martinis. Or gin and tonics. Or wine. Or beer. Or scotch. Well, you get the idea.

Which brings me to last Saturday night.

We uncorked a bottle of wine, wrapped ourselves in fleece and pushed 'play' on the dvd player.

I am usually the one to choose the movie because, well, I just am. We have one of those online movie rental memberships so since my laptop has morphed into an extra appendage, and is, therefore, always within spitting distance, it's easier for me to update our online queue. Usually I pick real winners like Failure To Launch (although I do love me some Matthew McConaughey) or The Holiday.

Anyway, we sunk a little deeper into the couch awaiting our movie-induced-coma to begin.

The previews were, oddly, movies we had never heard of and, this is even stranger, none of the previews were in ENGLISH.

Weird, no?

We kept watching. The opening scene showed a stark, unfamiliar official government building. Someone spoke, but we couldn't quite make out what they had said.

Brian and I looked at each other, each raising an eyebrow.

"What's the name of this movie again?" Brian asked.

"The Lives of Others," I said, reading the dvd sleeve.

I kept reading, and noticed something I hadn't noticed before.

"Um, when is says foreign does that generally mean it is in another language? Like, say, not English?" I asked.

Brian shook his head, no doubt wondering why he married a blond.

We've seen some great foreign films before, and we can be all intellectual-artsy-fartsy with the best of them (no, really, we can. I swear), but on this weary weekend night neither of us was in the mood to read subtitles for the next two hours.

Besides, all that reading would interfere with our alcohol intake.

Never ones to give up in the face of a challenge, we continued reading watching the movie. It wasn't long before we were both so engrossed in the story, so busy reading those little subtitles while simultaneously paying attention to, you know, the actors that we forgot (!) about our wine, which is usually the whole point of Saturday movie night.

It's one of those films that I am finding myself still thinking about days later while engaging in some mundane task like folding the laundry. Or doing the dishes. Or changing a diaper. Or making dinner. Or sweeping the floor. Well, you get the idea.

And, I assure you, if I can sit through two hours and 20 minutes of subtitles on a Saturday night (and like it) anybody can.


Go watch it and tell me what you think.