As luck would have it, or perhaps we should call it fate, we did not get to see The Man Who Killed Don Quixote at the DoCo theater in Sacramento last night. This is a movie that took Terry Gilliam (Monty Python) 30 years to produce. While filming on set, there were wars and floods going on that prevented finishing the picture. Well known actors, including Johnny Depp, came and went. Finally, Gilliam finished the film, but he could not find financial support to release the film. Somehow, he got a promotion to show the film one night only nationwide. Last night at 7 PM. Starring Adam Driver.
My husband was intent on viewing this movie. Why do I want to go, I asked? To see a movie by a person I don't particularly enjoy (not a big Monty Python fan like he), about a person I don't give a crap about, and in particular a movie that nobody in his or her right mind wants to back financially? But then what the hey. My husband is usually right (except when he's wrong) and maybe I would like the movie. So I bought tickets. Even offered to pay for dinner.
After all, I still had a gift certificate for The Red Rabbit that I received with no address or way to thank the people who sent it. We used part of it last year, but there was still more than $100 on the gift certificate. Even with a Manhattan, mac-n-cheese and haberno shrimp tacos on my side of the bill, we couldn't use up the money. Our waitress said there was still $39 left on the gift certificate, so I gave it to her as a tip. Oh, no, she says, this is too much money.
Just take it. Be happy!
We jump in the car and head across town. I tried to explain that my husband should take the freeway, but no, he decided it was a straight shot down L Street and he would drive the two miles in that direction. Somethings you don't argue about after you've been married for 20 years, and routes are one of those things. Especially when you're not the one driving. Of course, we hit tremendous traffic. Cars backed up, honking, women dressed like hookers. What's going on?
Oh, yes, it was PINK at the Golden 1 Center. Which explains why women filled all the bars and restaurants. It was a bit eerie, no men in sight. We ended up parking about 6 blocks away to save my husband's sanity, and I had to walk in the brisk wind to the theater, when I would have preferred covered parking but that's the price I pay for matrimonial bliss.
Once inside the theater, the ticket machine was not reading bar codes correctly, so we had to stand in another line to get my phone manually scanned for entrance. But finally, we found our way to our seats. Assigned seats. That reclined. Not all the way so you can go to sleep, though. Rats.
We sat in those seats for 45 minutes before somebody came out. "It's not any one person's fault," the theater guy explained, even though it probably was one person's fault. They just didn't know which person yet. Apparently, Fathom Events had been contacted to help download the film but it could take another 30 to 45 minutes before it was fixed, said theater guy. Which meant it could be another hour. The film is also 133 minutes. By now, it was almost 8 PM.
Did they ever show the movie? We don't know. They gave us a refund and we left. There were only a few dozen people in the theater anyway. And that's the story of The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. Just wasn't meant to be.
On a better note, you can read more about my partner's episode with a blackout last night in our personal blog today at this link: How Successful Sacramento Realtors Roll With the Flow.