Lestat (flambeauvivant) wrote,

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The Dead of Night.

So Louis and I screened Deadpool last night.

None of us had seen it. Only Owen seemed to focus his anticipation on the film itself. Armand sauntered in late, looking very fine in rust-colored cashmere. His towering companion had a suspiciously black eye. Had Lexia had her way I might have had two.

Louis took his seat as eagerly if it had been wired in by the Arkansas Department of Correction. Armand joined me two rows behind and Owen stood for a full twenty seconds blinking at the room before Louis invited him to sit beside him. And then we rolled.

I don't remember everything that happened on screen. I remember the torture scene because that got Armand's attention.

I simply adored the first sequence. The second half of the movie was a little dull. I missed the in-jokes.  It should have been wittier and bolder! If you're going deconstruct everything, then go all out. Don't kill the bad guy, don't get the girl. But it had more charm than I expected. Or was that Armand's provocative whisper in my ear.
Tags: armand, deadpool, louis, movie, owen
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