Finally, a movie for us

To distract myself from the sudden evaporation of my Thanksgiving plans (fear not, I have plans B and C in action, plus I bought all the fixings for myself so that I can have leftovers no matter where I end up), I lured some pals out for a matinee. We ended up at Stranger than Fiction--in spite of my alluring references to Casino Royale--and we had a BLAST.

Now, I don't know whether this would work for everyone, but we were 5 english profs in a row, wolfing down goobers, popcorn, sodas, and slurpees, and howling at the movie's lovely send-up of authors, characters, plot, and literature professors. Honestly, we were the only ones laughing a solid 50% of the time. As we left the theater, one of our group said, "Finally! A movie for us!" We laughed, we cried, we were thoroughly enamored.

For the rest of you? Will Farrell is amusing, Maggie Gyllenhall is her usual beautiful self (I'm entranced by this woman, perhaps even more than I am by Angelina Jolie. I love her husband, too, and have fleeting thoughts about becoming friends, or perhaps more than friends, with the both of them. Ahem. Back to the film.), and Emma Thompson is quite lovely. The plot? Pretty well telegraphed. The best part to me was Dustin Hoffmann's Professor of Literary Theory. He tries to talk Farrell through what kind of story he's in--is it a fairy tale? a comedy? a tragedy?--and has a deliciously cold-hearted approach to the fact that poor Will is subject to some cruel author's machinations. Gorgeous.

Empty? Sure. Entertaining? Absolutely. Matinee? Yep.

I'm sneaking into Casino Royale tomorrow afternoon. That was to be one of the highlights of my previously scheduled programming, so I'm going to see it by myself anyway. Otherwise the terrorists win, you see.