The other side
May. 21st, 2007 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringKerri dragged me along to a movie last night. The History Boys screening at Manuka. Outside is my night time world, that I see from my taxi on the rank across the street. The movie-goers spilling out onto the footpath, the lovers hand in hand, eyes only for each other, the slow cups of coffee, the cars cruising up and down, the soft lights on the trees with the last of their autumn leaves.
Except I don't do a shift on Sunday nights, so this was my chance for the other side.
I chose the little Hyundai, so I could play a jazz CD. Neither of our other cars have CD players, and besides, I like driving the cheerful little yellow car. I wouldn't want to do a full shift in that seat, placed far too high for my comfort, but for zipping around town, it can't be beat.
Parking in Manuka is a nightmare. As ever. I can understand the temptation to park on the empty stretches of the taxi rank, but no. After a couple of attempts to get an on-street park, both times pipped at the post by other, more rapacious, drivers, I give up and hit the Coles underground carpark.
Which it is free on Sunday evenings anyway.
Hand in hand we strolled along the footpath to the cinema. I peered in at the cabs parked on the rank, but none of the drivers seemed familiar.
Inside the cinema, we bought our tickets and settled in for the show. A bunch of trailers for upcoming films, all of which seemed absolutely marvellous. And then the movie itself - an opening shot of English townscape, old grey buildings with rolling countryside beyond. The characters appeared one by one, high school students learning the results of their final examinations, being selected for Oxford and Cambridge entrance. A special term of preparation for the entrance examinations required, and a trio of teachers assigned to the task.
High school boys are never this articulate and well-informed. Not in my experience. But place skepticism to one side and enjoy the witty dialogue and the deepening and surprising relationships. This is a film that has several levels of meaning, and I make a note to see it again sometime, so as to gain a better understanding of some of the early scenes. Besides, it is a joy to watch the characters in action. There are some delightful performances and a wealth of great lines. Perhaps the scene I enjoy most is one entirely in French, most of which I am able to follow, which is absolutely hilarious, serving to introduce a new and important character, and refine our appreciation of those existing.
The film was an adaptation of a play, and it showed in some scenes, with the dialogue just a little too stagey and contrived for good cinema. But I forgave it, especially right at the end, when there were a few twists and a neat wrapping up that took the whole thing into another dimension.
I love these witty, philosophical, but ultimately light-hearted movies. "Thank You for Smoking" was another I enjoyed.
We left the cinema, and I steered Kerri into a coffee shop. Artoven, one of my favorites, and back when I was doing day shifts, a highlight of my morning was cappucino and a rockcake from the bakery. "The highlight of my day," I'd smile at the barrista, and he'd smile back as he handed me a frothy cup. Mmmmm!
The rockcake, studded with sultanas and topped with tiny red cherries, would last me a half hour or so in between passengers, but tonight it had to serve two, and we demolished it in ten delicious minutes as the staff stacked chairs and swept the floor around us.
"Good night!" I called as we left the shop, and they smiled back.
The rank was empty, and I peeked into the window of Abel's Records as I passed by. Always a temptation to duck in and riffle through the jazz collection during the day, but thankfully for my credit card, closed at night.
We retrieved the car and filled the tank at the nearby Shell. Chet Baker and the glurgle of petrol, then a serene ride back home, over the floodlit bridge, down Constitution Avenue and turn into the driveway.
"That's my world," I told Kerri. "All night, every night."
Except I don't do a shift on Sunday nights, so this was my chance for the other side.
I chose the little Hyundai, so I could play a jazz CD. Neither of our other cars have CD players, and besides, I like driving the cheerful little yellow car. I wouldn't want to do a full shift in that seat, placed far too high for my comfort, but for zipping around town, it can't be beat.
Parking in Manuka is a nightmare. As ever. I can understand the temptation to park on the empty stretches of the taxi rank, but no. After a couple of attempts to get an on-street park, both times pipped at the post by other, more rapacious, drivers, I give up and hit the Coles underground carpark.
Which it is free on Sunday evenings anyway.
Hand in hand we strolled along the footpath to the cinema. I peered in at the cabs parked on the rank, but none of the drivers seemed familiar.
Inside the cinema, we bought our tickets and settled in for the show. A bunch of trailers for upcoming films, all of which seemed absolutely marvellous. And then the movie itself - an opening shot of English townscape, old grey buildings with rolling countryside beyond. The characters appeared one by one, high school students learning the results of their final examinations, being selected for Oxford and Cambridge entrance. A special term of preparation for the entrance examinations required, and a trio of teachers assigned to the task.
High school boys are never this articulate and well-informed. Not in my experience. But place skepticism to one side and enjoy the witty dialogue and the deepening and surprising relationships. This is a film that has several levels of meaning, and I make a note to see it again sometime, so as to gain a better understanding of some of the early scenes. Besides, it is a joy to watch the characters in action. There are some delightful performances and a wealth of great lines. Perhaps the scene I enjoy most is one entirely in French, most of which I am able to follow, which is absolutely hilarious, serving to introduce a new and important character, and refine our appreciation of those existing.
The film was an adaptation of a play, and it showed in some scenes, with the dialogue just a little too stagey and contrived for good cinema. But I forgave it, especially right at the end, when there were a few twists and a neat wrapping up that took the whole thing into another dimension.
I love these witty, philosophical, but ultimately light-hearted movies. "Thank You for Smoking" was another I enjoyed.
We left the cinema, and I steered Kerri into a coffee shop. Artoven, one of my favorites, and back when I was doing day shifts, a highlight of my morning was cappucino and a rockcake from the bakery. "The highlight of my day," I'd smile at the barrista, and he'd smile back as he handed me a frothy cup. Mmmmm!
The rockcake, studded with sultanas and topped with tiny red cherries, would last me a half hour or so in between passengers, but tonight it had to serve two, and we demolished it in ten delicious minutes as the staff stacked chairs and swept the floor around us.
"Good night!" I called as we left the shop, and they smiled back.
The rank was empty, and I peeked into the window of Abel's Records as I passed by. Always a temptation to duck in and riffle through the jazz collection during the day, but thankfully for my credit card, closed at night.
We retrieved the car and filled the tank at the nearby Shell. Chet Baker and the glurgle of petrol, then a serene ride back home, over the floodlit bridge, down Constitution Avenue and turn into the driveway.
"That's my world," I told Kerri. "All night, every night."
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Date: 2007-05-21 09:19 pm (UTC)http://v-recipes.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html
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Date: 2007-05-22 01:26 am (UTC)