“How did you like “Slumdog Millionaire?”
“I thought it was OK.”
And with that reply, Ms. Keisha Grant looked at me as if I had two heads with four different colored eyes.
How could I not love, love, love the darling of the Academy that won eight Oscars?
Great expectations. Probably unreasonable expectations. After reading all about it, hearing everyone gush about it, and watching the non-stop parade to accept all those Oscars, I just expected too much when I finally saw it a couple of weeks ago.
And then to discover that “Jai Ho” was a production number after the film ended, well…
This weekend, the Dearly Beloved and I watched Woody Allen’s “Vicky Cristina Barcelona.” It had a leg up immediately, because we’re suckers for movies that feature places we’ve been. The postcard cinematography of the city and and Gaudi architecture made us wish we were there. (Though Sunday’s early March weather was a contributor.)
I reminded the DB that this was the picture for which Penélope Cruz won the best supporting actress Oscar, and also featured Scarlett Johansson and Javier Bardem (“…you remember, the crazy dude from ‘No Country For Old Men.’ Oh yeah, right.”)
So as it turned out, we really liked the performance of Rebecca Hall (Vicky), an actress we had never heard of.
Sometimes it’s better to have no expectations. They’re so easily exceeded.