The theatre was full. It was opening day for a movie I had very much wanted to see. How could it miss with a brilliant cast of proven favorites? Judy Dench, Maggie Smith, Bill Nighy and Tom Wilkinson have proven themselves again and again over the course of many, many years that each one can single-actedly carry out any cinematic challenge. The idea of them together as a team of characters promised a mother load of possibility.
My husband and my son were with me. We have all been to India and have found that the intense sights, sounds, smells and experiences can create hilarious reactions when American’s try to adapt. (video clip of my son washing clothes in India)
I started giggling right off the credits, quickly progressing to dignified laughter. My son and husband also chuckled along with the matinée crowd of gray, sparsely haired, movie lovers.
Somewhere during the first 30 minutes or so, the full belly laugh started. I realized that I was laughing a little louder and a little longer than anyone else in the theatre. It felt really good to laugh so hardily until the reserved, rational part of my brain asked my throw caution to the wind part of my brain, “What is so darn funny?”
It wasn’t the India part that got to me, although it was funny, beautiful and alluring. It was the other part. That adorable group of retirees, grandparents, health challenged, life-seeking, technically behind, grumpy, elderly people could be me. Disturbing, right?
A few tears surfaced as I tried to reign in my laughter so that it would not cross over into the land of sobs. I am happy to say that I recovered, regrouped and throughly enjoyed the rest of the movie.