Wuthering Heights

I was thinking about how I might review this movie, which I enjoyed overall, and I realized I'd much rather write a review of the movie-viewing experience itself. 

Mark and I went to see this on a Tuesday (cheap) night at one of the theaters with the super-comfortable lounge chairs (which make me think of Dad every time, and his La-Z-Boy antipathy). We met Janet there, because she is our patron saint of going to the movies, partly because she regularly insists on treating us, using a complicated logical argument that has to do with "points" on her "card." She also pays to fill up her giant Film Fanatic Club member's popcorn bucket, and then shares it most generously. The theater was busy for a Tuesday, and our movie was as crowded as any I've been to since Covid times began. In particular, there were several large groups of (promising) young women.

We found our seats, reserved by Janet, which disappointed her since she'd meant for us to sit in the next row back, but which seemed pretty great to us. We tilted back, La-Z-Boys all, and the giant popcorn bucket sat on my lap throughout (I was in the middle). Mark expressed his apprehension about seeing Wuthering Heights in mixed company, anticipating it would be "steamy," and having read one review that said it should have been rated NC-17. He asked Janet if she had seen Saltburn or Promising Young Woman, which she had not, and we warned her to be prepared for...fluids. 

The lights went down and there were fluids and the color red and sexy bread dough but nothing NC-17 for sure, and it was steamy but absolutely fine in mixed company. Also, my expectations were modest since I had gotten wind that a lot of people found it "bad," but I didn't, and neither did my companions.

I ate far too much salty popcorn.

Near the end (spoiler alert) the promising young women began to sob collectively, and when the credits began, they started laughing en masse — catharsis! It was really pretty wonderful, and though I didn't sob, I did find myself laughing along with them (as did my companions).

Mark and I were outrageously parched, so while Janet stopped at the restroom, he and I attempted to find a concession stand employee or a cup for water or a water fountain, none of which were available. I resorted to sucking on ice cubes which I dispensed into my hands from the soda machine, and Mark resorted to stealing a cup from behind the counter, only to be caught red handed by the nonplussed concession stand employee who suddenly appeared from nowhere. Mark traded the purloined soda cup for two teeny water cups, and we dispensed (club soda?) into them and guzzled it down. Janet claimed not to be thirsty when she emerged from the restroom. 

Into the night we went, and into our cars, and we were home by 9:30. A