Some Like it Quiet

I am positively mortified to call myself a West Villager right now.

How have I not ever, not once in the three years that I’ve lived down here, never been to Film Forum? It’s blasphemous. I’m ashamed.

Perhaps all I needed, though, was a Hot kick in the butt.

As in Some Like It Hot.

I pass by the Film Forum every day on my way to work. (Yes, I walk. Stop hating, would you!)

They show obscure, independent, avant-garde films at their cinematic best. But oftentimes there are old-time movies playing - so I suppose it should not have come as a shock to see that one of my fave Monroe films was playing. It was a sign - the time had come to break my Film Forum seal.

So last night, my friend Jeffery and I went to see Curtis, Lemmon, and Monroe in the 50th anniversary special of AFI’s #1 Funniest Movie of all time.

I was in heaven. Checking for time and texts on my iPhone and merrily chomping Sour Brite Crawlers aside, I pretended it was 1959 and I was a young girl living the NYC Dream.

I imagined how shocked I would have been to see a suuuuuuuuper scantily clad Marilyn shake her money maker(s). How hard I would have laughed at Jack Lemmon in drag, swinging his souvenir Tango maracas.

I pondered how times haven’t changed in fifty years - that Daphne still wouldn’t be able to marry Osgood in 2009. No matter how hilarious the “You’re a guy. Why should a guy want to marry a guy?” “Security!” banter was.

It was also interesting to watch Marilyn in her scenes, knowing what we know of filming - how she showed up late, didn’t know her lines - and recall what was to be her sad, sad legend.

I used to be a huge Marilyn fan but seeing this movie for the dozenth or so time, I think Lemmon’s character blew any inklings of harbored Monroe favoritism out of the water. No wonder he was nominated for an Oscar!

All in all twas a lovely, rollicking, uproarious hoot of a time.Until a stupid schmuck started singing along with Marilyn in one of the final scenes.

Seriously? I’m sorry, but SERIOUSLY???? Are we in your car? Is this the radio? Are you an understudy at a Marilyn Monroe cabaret show? Are you drunk? Is this real life?

Yes, I’ll admit that sometimes I do hear things that aren’t there. I mishear. So I tried to tune out Marilyn’s fluffy, breathy voice and listen to the chick two seats down.

Nothing. Silly me, I thought.

Then there it was again - the singing. The singing along to a movie. Like we were watching Barney and Friends or some nonsense.

SO DEGRADING! SO OFFENSIVE! SO UNBELIEVABLE!

Never have I ever experienced something so audacious.

But what I was I to do? I turned my passive aggressive, bespectacled face toward the beast. But there was a gal in between us - and she was smiling at her stupid singing friend. Like, rooting her on or something.

I looked over at Jeffery and thank GOD he heard it too - confirmation. I knew I wasn’t crazy! He smirked back and we watched the scene on screen play out, trying to tune out the songbird-wannabe, while Josephine laid a kiss on Sugar.Yay rah rah Joe/sephine!
Boooooooooooooooooo stupid singing lady!

What a way to ruin the end of a perfectly lovely evening at the cinema.

If it had been 1959 I am sure no one would dare be so disrespectful, so discourteous, so brazen.

Seriously, you don’t sing along with Marilyn.

The warning at the beginning of a movie should apparently read “Please silence your cell phones…and voices.” Because, actually, Everyone Likes It QUIET.