♪ ♫MIGHT AS WELL FACE IT, YOU’RE ADDICTED TO LOVE,
MIGHT AS WELL FACE IT, YOU’RE ADDICTED TO LOVE, ♪ ♫
“That is so loud,” Jerry says to me as we lean back in our movie theater seats. The movie screen features a tube of Revlon lipstick the size of the Empire State building. The song lyrics “addicted to love” blast through the speakers as plump, glossy, red lips, 20-feet tall, kiss the screen.
Jerry and I had just settled into our balcony Star Class seats. We paid extra for the seats which are roomier and more comfy than the downstairs gallery. We didn’t anticipate, however, the movie speakers would be nestled two-feet from our ears.
“Uh, excuse me,” Jerry says to the Star Class server who brings food and drink orders to our section. “Could you ask the projectionist to turn down the sound, it’s too loud.”
I have to smile. Our server could be no older than 22. Does she know who or what a projectionist is? She probably thinks Jerry and I rode to the movie theater in a covered wagon.
Suddenly the sound from the nearby speakers stops. Now the only sound we have comes from the speakers downstairs. As the lights dim, our movie Cinderella begins.
I have to lean forward to hear. “Jerry, I can’t hear the movie. Can you?”
Jerry says very satisfied, “I hear it fine!”
Now I wish I knew lip reading. I focus on the lips of the movie characters, trying to make out their formations and what words they produce. Good thing I know the story. That helps.
At some point, the sound begins to sound like a whisper and I can hear a little bit. I’m soon swept away into the fairy tale. The visuals of a pumpkin transformed into a golden carriage and mice into white stallions seems so real. Reality becomes fantasy… I’m Cinderella. I’m going to the ball to meet my prince.
I love movies like this one, where the theme has nothing to do with killing people or blowing up buildings. And the uplifting Cinderella theme never gets old: good overcomes evil; love and kindness win over hate and meanness. Not to mention the theme: glass slippers can be comfortable.
Jerry whispers in my ear. “Why does Cinderella have black eyebrows and blond hair?”
I whisper back, “Her eyebrows are brown.”
I hadn’t noticed Cinderella’s eyebrows, but now I can’t take my eyes off of them. It’s like someone telling you not to think of a pink monkey and that’s the first thing you think of. I can’t stop noticing her dark eyebrows clashing with blond highlights.
I forget about eyebrows when the fairy godmother waves her wand. I’m swooped back into the fantasy. Cinderella swirls in a gorgeous blue dress that glitters in awestruck finery. I’m focused on the dress. How can I get a dress like that? Kohl’s maybe? And where would I wear it? Perhaps to the post office? How often do you see anyone in the post office in a ballroom gown dripping in lace? After all the post office could use some glamour.
When the movie ends, a gaggle of young girls seated downstairs clap enthusiastically. And why not? Happy endings deserve applause. We see so few of this in these days when our world news holds mostly endings with sadness and frustration.
As our car pulls out of the parking lot, Jerry puts the brakes on. “Look over there. Someone’s purse.” Sitting unattended in the middle of the parking lot, a black leather purse looks askew, set on its side with contents spilling out. Jerry runs over and retrieves the purse. “There’s probably a wallet inside. That’ll help us figure out who owns this, so we can return it,” he says.
But we don’t find a wallet, only a makeup bag filled with mascara and blush, a combination lock and a sweatshirt. Jerry concludes someone stole the wallet and ditched the purse. Once at home, he calls the police. The police dispatcher places him on hold for a time so lengthy that if his call were life-threatening, he wouldn’t have survived. Tired of waiting, Jerry hangs up.
“Someone will want their purse back,” Jerry says. “I bet this purse cost a couple of hundred dollars.” I smile thinking how Jerry knows the value of purses after Christmas shopping for me.
“Who’s at our door at 10 o’clock?” I wonder.
“It’s probably Dick,” Jerry says.
Our neighbor Dick has never come calling at 10 o’clock before, why now?
Jerry answers and it’s the police. Apparently, the best way to get attention from the police is to hang up on them. That way they come straight to your door.
Jerry explains the purse situation and the police suggest he take it back to the movie theater in the event the owner checks there for her lost purse.
“I’ll take the purse back to the theater tomorrow,” Jerry says. “That is a nice purse and I know whoever owns it would want it back.”
It occurs to me later that a prince doesn’t necessarily have to ride a white horse and rule a kingdom and reside in a castle. A prince can be someone wanting to return a purse to its rightful owner.