A golden winter’s day. A walk across russet Richmond Park and along the wide Thames from Petersham. “My heart rose with every stride; It was good to be alive.” A peep into the lovely church where George Vancouver is buried. A charming lunch on the Hill. Then,the movies.
Screen 3 at the Richmond Odeon seats around 200. For the Friday afternoon show of Spielberg’s “Bridge of Spies” around 20 are scattered around. Me included. A late arrival is shining his mobile at the seats and approaches.
What number is your seat?
I have no idea , I don’t care
But I do care I think you are sitting in my seat.
Your seat? The place is empty
Its my seat.
OK, I move one. Arthur Anal sits in HIS seat. But realising the absurdity of sitting next to someone in an almost empty auditorium moves one. Mistake. I say.
I think you are sitting in my seat.
What! Exclaims Arthur Anal
My seat, I think you’ll find
You must be joking
Of course I am
Arthur Anal throws up his hands and moves a row. Would I have behaved the same if he had been a)black b)wearing a suicide vest c)a burqua d)been transgender? Shamefully not. No doubt on the other side of the pond he would have shot me. Oh dear.
As for the film,pretty good, Mark Rylance acts them all off the park. Tom Hanks saves the world(again?) telling his wife he has gone salmon fishing . He is in fact playing high stakes spy swop in East Berlin. He comes back modestly saying “What a trip” his wife(who should have been played by Doris Day) says “Did you remember the marmalade dear.” The kids are watching TV and suddenly their daddy’s face comes up as the man who saved the world. The family looks at him,he is not just an insurance lawyer in a suit who takes the Westchester flyer everyday, he is superman.
US of A, love it or leave it