Went to the Parkway last night to watch The House of Flying Daggers. Now, the Parkway is the best theater in Oakland. Really. It’s an old art-deco place, just around the corner from the best bar (Baggy’s) and the best restaurant (Merritt Bakery) in Oakland, and it’s an institution. Movies are five bucks. They sell pizzas, medium for eight bucks. The sell beer by the PITCHER, people. Candy bars are a buck. They have audience appreciation nights, where it’s free entrance. Last month, Time Bandits. This month, American Pie.
And the best part? There are couches. You’re hanging out, watching the show, all relaxed on your couch, watching strangers hang out on other couches. They used to be kind of old and a little smelly, but they got all new ones from Ikea with washable covers. It’s like hanging out at a party in your really big living room, and everyone’s cordial, but you don’t have to worry about mixing. Yeah. That’s it.
They get second-run releases, which is why it took me a while to get around to seeing the movie, but damn. It’s worth the hype. One of the loveliest films I’ve ever seen — the colors by themselves make up an additional character. And every character is gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. Ridiculously gorgeous. The kind of gorgeousness that doesn’t actually occur in real life because if it did, nothing would ever get done.
Now I’m at work on a ten-hour overtime shift (it was supposed to be five, but I’m being nice. Nice and greedy for the money, that is. I’ve got this nasty yarn habit to support, you know).
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