My wife and I kind of discussed it a few days beforehand, and I was relieved that she hadn't yet bought me a present. I was already mentally scrambling about how I was going to do that for her without making a panic buy that would be a swing and a miss. But she was equally game to go present free this year -- which, to be honest, we've been doing the past few years anyway.
When I asked her if we were planning to do anything for our anniversary, she asked "What day is it?" Not what date we got married -- she knows that -- but what day of the week the anniversary fell on. This gives a good idea of how little fussed she was by having it be more or less a regular Sunday.
But I upped the ante, just a little bit, the day before. I bought her a beautiful $100 bouquet of flowers from the nice florist in our town center -- their quality is nice, their demeanor to customers is only sometimes nice. I made clear that this did not create any expectations for reciprocation, it was just a nice thing I wanted to do. And I think she did, indeed, think it was very nice. She commented several times on how beautiful they were and wore a grin for a while afterward.
I thought of holding them back to present them on the actual anniversary, but then that meant I'd need to leave them propped up somewhere in hiding, overnight, when they need to be transferred to water. I'm capable of doing that part, of course, but my success with that is mixed, and besides, she likes to do it.
But presenting them on Saturday meant there was no actual thing to do on Sunday to honor the day. When I was returning from my walk, she texted me to suggest brunch, and we had a very nice one, discussing the kids and our upcoming trip to Japan.
When she said she would walk home from the cafe, and confirmed there was nothing going on in the afternoon, I got a look in my eye -- that look that says I have an idea of something I want to do, but I've been too shy to mention it before now.
"You want to go to a movie?" she asked. "You can."
How cool is she?
"Well yes," I said, "they're playing 2001 at the Sun in Yarraville."
See this was something I'd had in my back pocket for a while. The Sun is good at advertising their upcoming special features, so as long as a couple months ago I saw that 2001 was coming back. I say "coming back" because it does play the Sun periodically in 70 mm, though I don't remember seeing it programmed since the last time I saw it at the Sun, in July of 2018 for the 50th anniversary of the moon landing. I popped a reminder in my calendar just so I wouldn't forget.
My first impression was that it would play multiple times over a few weeks -- you know, maximize the time you have with the print. But when I checked on it earlier this week, I could only definitively see this Sunday -- which was, of course, our anniversary.
I didn't say anything to my wife, but I did check this morning to see if there were any seats left. There were about six.
Fortunately, when I returned home from brunch, there were still seats remaining for the single 2 p.m. showing, and this was now about 1:25. But in a phenomenon I can't explain other than someone possibly cancelling their tickets, there were now two quite good seats in the middle of a mid-range row, one right in front of the walkway, meaning plenty of extra legroom. I only needed one of them. And though I usually get free tickets at the Sun on my critics card, the card is not meant for this scenario, so I happily paid the $30.
And what did I get for a few extra bucks beyond the standard ticket price? How about this beautiful program I'm showing you above, with the H.A.L. eye peeking over its shoulder from the screen behind it?
It's gorgeous and I'm pretty sure I will add it to the cork board behind my desk, but obviously no pushpins through its lovely skin.
The movie that went from utterly baffling (my first viewing in 1980) to still head-scratching but significant (my second viewing in 2001) to personal favorite (my third viewing in 2013) all the way up to #12 on my Flickchart (my fourth viewing in 2018) did not disappoint in this, my fifth viewing. If I can't move it up any more in my personal favorites, it's because there are only 11 films ahead of it now -- though let's just see how it does if it comes up for duels against those films.
Some of the "new" observations I had on this viewing were actually things I talked about when I last wrote about the movie (here), so the takeaways from this viewing are going to seem a bit shallower by comparison.
One thing I'll say is that I do like my astronaut in peril movies, and I'm on another small binge of them now. It started with Solaris for the Audient One-Timers series back in February, then carried on through to Project Hail Mary, Sunshine, and most recently, last year's The Astronaut, just seen last weekend. This makes five, and now I probably have it out of my system again for a little while.
Speaking of large numbers, this now makes the fourth time I've seen this movie on the big screen. Only my 2013 viewing was on a small screen. I'd say that makes 2001 the most I've seen any movie on a big screen, except I also watched Pulp Fiction four times in the theater. It's definitely my largest number of repertory theatrical viewings of one movie. There may only be even one other I've seen twice (Donnie Darko, except one of those was the inferior director's cut).
But the takeaway I want to finish with is that in this viewing, my one truly new takeaway that I'm certain of is that two of the movie's stars remind me of two icons from my childhood. See, I told you it would be shallower.
Here's the first pairing:
Yes that's William Shatner's Captain Kirk on the right, though that is certainly not the Captain Kirk from my childhood. I was having trouble finding a similar profile shot circa The Wrath of Khan.
It's not just a similarity in the appearance of William Sylvester's Haywood Floyd, it's also something in the demeanor, in the slightly too confident means of presenting himself.
And here is the second:
Although the physical similarity is pretty striking, this is a bit of a demeanor thing too, though I can't really describe it. There are a few moments when Keir Dullea's voice gets a bit animated that remind me of Christopher Reeve's Superman in his moments of high stress.
Though of course we all know the real best appearance match for Dullea is Ed Harris.
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