Now that I'm back in the city, I'm continuing to "get cultured."
A friend recommended the new romantic comedy P.S. I Love You. That same friend made it sound like I was going to laugh myself silly because she mentioned that Harry Connick, Jr. had some pretty funny lines. Being a sucker for romantic comedies, I went to see it yesterday.
I think I only laughed at a few lines. I spent the rest of the time digging through my purse for Kleenexes and making sure that my throat hadn't swollen shut. I don't think I've cried through an entire movie like that before. (The only one that might come close is Man Without A Face, which I did not see in the theater.) The gist of P.S. I Love You is sweet, but I think it has been mislabeled as a "romantic comedy." I would have enjoyed it more if I had watched it in the privacy of my own home with a full box of Kleenexes nearby.
Today, I finally made it to the last presentation of God's Trombones at a local theater. For those of you who are unfamiliar with God's Trombones, this particular production was conceived by Rudy Eastman and is described as a "classic holiday celebration based on the Negro sermon poems by James Weldon Johnson."
I was hooked from the moment I stepped into the intimate theater, and it only got better from there. I sat beside the lead actress's grandmother, who is one particularly proud (and entertaining) grandma. She attempted to dialogue with her granddaughter throughout the show and offered up resounding praise every time her granddaughter hit incredible notes. The "soulful" show lived up to its advertising: "a musical celebration that . . . lift[ed my] spirits and rocked [my] soul."