Sunny, Funny Face

In spite of myself I crossed another thing off my Paris bucket list this afternoon when I went and saw "Funny Face" in V.O. (version originale, i.e. English with French subtitles) at La Filmothèque Quartier Latin near La Sorbonne.  

I write "in spite of myself" because I spent the day inside making good progress on the book and it took all of my motivation to leave the comforts of the apartment.  Getting out is not just about balance like I wrote the other day, it's also one of the challenges of traveling alone.  There is no one to motivate you, to help get you excited about something, or in some instances to share the experience with.  You have to want to do it for yourself and sometimes you need to give yourself a kick in the ass.  I remain determined to embrace every last second of this summer in Paris.   

This tiny cinema has two Salles: Salle Marilyn & Salle Audrey.  Naturally "Funny Face" was playing in Salle Audrey.  After paying 9 euros, I descended down a typical flight of terrifying French stairs to find about 50 seats and a surprisingly large screen.  The walls were plush royal blue and the seats were made from the same fabric but in a much lighter shade of blue. It felt very cozy sitting there on a rainy Sunday afternoon.  The space was so small that the ends of the rows had jump seats that folded down to accommodate the sold out audience.  The walls were decorated with art deco-ish style lighting fixtures and Andy Warhol prints of Audrey Hepburn.

There was no concession stand and nobody ate, much less chewed gum, during the film.  I didn't hear a crinkle or a rustle during the entire movie.  The audience reacted loudly to several scenes and clearly loved seeing Paris interpreted through Stanley Donen's late 1950's lens.  There was enthusiastic applause when the film ended.  

And then because Paris is really a small city wearing a big city disguise, I rode the métro home to my stop at Motte-Picquet with several fellow moviegoers sharing smiles along the way.  

Sunday morning with dad...

Sitting next to me this morning at a café was a small boy and his dad.  The small boy was wearing a Spider Man costume and miniature red Converse.  Dad ordered a juice for his son and a coffee for himself.  When the drinks came, dad shook out his copy of Le Parisien and tapped several Marlboro cigarettes onto the table.  Son happily sucked his orange juice through a straw and watched rue Cler wake up while dad read his paper and chain smoked.