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Warning: spoilers ahead.
To set the scene: Its a Monday evening.
Were making chicken Caesar salad, a house favorite.
Extra anchovies and lemon in the dressing.
And then … nothing.
Not, like, on a technical level (the HDMI-cord-to-television setup were using is chugging along great).
Onscreen, I mean.
Okay, good, with him gone maybe this can finally get gay.
Oh, and theres Fiona Shaw.
Im getting majorexvibes between her and Winslet.
Im so bored????
Its soooo slow and boring.
Theres like 2 ok ish sex scenes, Rachel tells me.
Okay, I think, something to look forward to.
The lesbian tension requires nothing to cut it because it doesnt exist!!!
I shout through the phone.
(We also note the upcomingClea Duvall Christmas rom-com, which I forewent this evening to watchAmmonite.
Its a decision Im starting to regret.)
But its done for now.
At least hanging the giant mirror together felt queer, unlike this movie that we now have to finish.
Where was that for the last hour and a half?
Because her husband is apparently so obsessed with fossils now he wont care?
Now THAT is the dyke drama I came to see, but its simply too little, too late.
I dont care how gorgeously framed the final shot is, theres just notherethere.
(Thatll be Tuesday nights entertainment, I can only assume, when we watchThe Happiest Season.)
Which I recognize was probably an artistic decision, but not one that works inAmmonites favor.
Joke is on her though, because shes right.
My body is now permanently petrified into our couch.
A fossil of the gay I was three hours ago.
