I was supposed to be making dinner Saturday night with a bunch of friends but the plans got altered and I took it as an opportunity to do my own thing – so I hopped in Blue and headed to Elmwood to see Knocked Up – the much touted summer comedy. The show was good and funny, but there were also parts that hit a little to close to the bone – like when the older sister realizes that her husband is getting better looking with age, but she as a woman has no where to go but down with her looks.
I think it isn’t giving away the plot to say that the main character finds herself pregnant after a one night stand. And the script had a veracity that you usually don’t get in many of today’s Hollywood movies. But the way the pregnancy was treated – as a big event – was what was the most heartening thing about the story.
After the movie ended, I stayed in my seat and balled my eyes out. I guess I do know what pushed my buttons but I’m frankly surprised when those inner demons come out and Knock Me Down without warning. I had gone to see a comedy. I left the theater, a little slumped, a little weak in the knees. Outside I saw a neighbor, a young attractive woman, with her beau, who G says looks like a young N, near their car and for some reason watching them made me melancholy.
I came home and poured a glass of LeFarge and put some soulful music on and rocked on the front porch. Deep breaths, I kept telling myself.