Last weekend RangerSir and I went to town and did a movie date. It is not something we do very often, because we don’t have the same taste in movies, I can not imagine sitting still for two hours, and the thrifty side of me hates the expense. I was in the mood to splurge and it was my turn to pick. I choose “The Hundred-Foot Journey.” I did this for two reasons. I like Helen Mirren and I like food. I wasn’t expecting great things, possibly a little more of an art film bent than your standard boy/girl move. I tend to enjoy art films, even subtitles and my little corner of Montana is definitely short on that. This had the look of a possibility.
First let me say, the movie had the usual cliché story of nice looking young fella and gal attraction who get together, torn apart and together in the end. I let this all take a back seat to the wonderful acting and interaction of the adults who were in their sixties, Helen Mirren and Om Puri. It was so great to not see the grown-ups relegated to supporting walk-on roles but in was be part of center stage and the story. Helen did not disappoint me, and I enjoyed seeing her work with Om Puri, who was great as well. I loved glimpses of the beautiful scenery of France, that I am likely to never seen in person.
Though RangerSir and I were chopping away at the monster bag of popcorn in lieu of lunch, we both were wishing that there was any Indian restaurant near by to satisfy our gastronomical senses that had been aroused by the cooking and spices shown on screen. I think that there is maybe one or two Indian restaurants in the whole state of Montana, so Indian food was only going to happen in my kitchen. I am now wondering about adding cardamom to some things that are not considered “normal”, as it is one of my favorite spices. After this movie I am thinking a little adventuresome uses of the collection of spices in my drawer.
My biggest disappointment was the missing subtitles. I know most American’s hate them and this after all was an American target audience film. There was lots of French and the native tongue of the Indian family spoken. All of which I missed because the film maker thought it was alright to sum it up with an occasional English blurb that would give you the gist of what was spoken. If you don’t like them, don’t read them, but don’t leave me out by not including subtitles, and giving me a shorthand version of what was said.
When we left both, RangerSir and I, agreed it had been worth the spluge. We had enjoyed the movie more than we had planned. It was worthy of our time and glad we had gone. Besides that it was a date and you never get old to date, look at Helen and Om.