A few days ago I agreeably chatted with a nice, friendly, 50ish Connecticut woman about…well, not much but briefly about films.
She and her husband are hardly movie hounds, she confessed. They watch a lot of sports. “So no films at all?” I gently inquired. She said they’ve enjoyed streaming Tulsa King, the Sylvester Stallone / Paramount + series. (My interest in continuing our conversation dropped precipitously after she said this.)
I asked if she’s seen Anora, 2024’s Best Picture Oscar winner. She not only hasn’t seen Sean Baker’s edgy Russia-Brooklyn comedy, she told me, but before I pitched my question she’d never even heard of it. So much for the influence of the Academy Awards.
Repeating for posterity: Before her encounter with the living, breathing embodiment of Hollywood Elsewhere, this gracious, soft-spoken woman had never once HEARD of Anora.
She and her husband have, however, not only heard of but watched Edward Berger’s masterful Conclave, which is HE’s second most admired 2024 film (right after Anora). Alas, they zoned out and turned it off after an hour or so.
Whoa. I said “okay” to indicate that there’s nothing wrong or worrisome about not liking this or that film. But the silence that followed this admission — the silence between us, I mean — was deafening.
I was going to suggest that she and her husband might enjoy seeing Sentimental Value when it opens in November, but after considering their lack of rapport with Conclave I thought better of it.