“Don’t look in that mirror!” I said to T as he wandered back from the Gents, “It’s a ‘fat’ mirror, and Lord knows I don’t need to add any extra pounds to the ones already gained over the last week.”
He looked into the mirror anyway – emblazoned with a superlative drawing of the movie we’d just seen: The latest in the Star Wars, um, series, it was perfect viewing for the middle bit – that bit between Christmas and New Year where no one knows what day of the week it is, much less cares.
We’d met at 8 to go to the local Everyman cinema. At the top of a bustling queue T requested the tickets: “I booked two for Rogue Nation”, he said to one of the Bartenders. I smiled standing beside him, noting the hot rum punch merrily steaming on the bar. “You mean, Rogue One” came the reply. We looked at each other, “Yes, of course, Rogue One.”
“I was sure it was called the former, T” I whispered, clutching my winter warmer as our eyes adjusted to the darkened theatre and we attempted to locate our small but perfectly formed sofa.
Special effects reigned supreme in a movie where the laughs came from K-2SO – all minute mannerisms coupled with a dry wit easily a match for C-3P0 – and Peter Cushing was raised from his rest via CGI to be morphed into some notable character or other.
As the lights came up I turned to my actor friend: “What was all that about the antennae not being aligned? Was that Leia at the end – if so what have they done to her face?! And was Princess Jen supposed to be Leia in an early life? And the big retro controls? I’m confused.”