Brave HeartA Story by Woodyyou need to watch a movie several times to be able to appreciate it fully.The day was overcast
but it took nothing of the beauty of the green glen, the neighbouring knoll and
the towering centennial trees that were bordering the whole area like
sentinels. The whole expanse was as widespread as two football pitches side by
side. It was a peaceful
scene and yet the air felt charged. The birds had stopped their morning
serenade as if sensing a momentous occurrence. The horizon darkened
perceptibly. It quickly became clear that a great number of riders were
approaching. A black tsunami of men on horseback started filling the space. The
thundering beat of the horses’ hooves was deafening. Soon they were close
enough to touch. The details became sharper. They were hardened warriors,
clearly on the war path. Their leader raised his arm and they stopped. There
was paint on the faces of the men who held an assortment of weapons: swords,
axes and clubs. The muscles on their arms were bulging. Their mounts looked as
impatient to move on as they were. They were snorting, stamping, rearing to
go. The cameraman made a
wide sweep of this human sea then soared overhead and offered us a breathtaking
bird view of the scene; a thrumming sea of bodies, then zoomed in and took a
low view shot of the leader. Looking at him from the ground up made him appear
gigantic. He was simply majestic. His back was ramrod straight, his blond hair
flowing in the wind. The paint could not conceal his grim, chiseled features
nor his legendary blue eyes as they scanned the far distance. It was none other
than the handsome Mel Gibson sitting on his fidgeting horse. The animal’s
nostrils were flaring, foam dripping around the bit and eyes bulging. The fiery
red coat of the horse was covered in a sheen of sweat. I suddenly realized I
was holding my breath. I exhaled audibly. “Damn!” was all Zee
said. He was sprawled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn propped up on his stomach,
a leg flung on the back of the couch. Bokhsh, my other friend was occupying the adjoining
armchair and I was sitting on the carpet, leaning against the wall, my own
popcorn forgotten. * * * * * * * * * * * * * The following
evening, my friends and I purchased “Meet the Fockers”, the one featuring Ben
Stiller, De Nero and Hoffman. We bought the beer, the popcorn, cashew nuts and
settled down for an evening of fun. Zee went to eject the
Mel Gibson and insert Ben Stiller but the damn CD rack refused to budge. Try as
we might, the flipping thing would not open. “S**t!” complained Bokhsh,
“I was looking forward to watching something funny.” “Listen,” I said,
“it’s a good movie. We might as well see it again.” They agreed and we
settled for a rerun of the epic adventures of M.G. I, for one, was secretly
happy to see the movie again. I discovered a few things I hadn’t noticed the
first time and the pleasure was by no means diminished. My favourite low-view
shot came on and I couldn’t even blink. A wispy vapour was rising in the crisp
morning air from the sweaty flanks of the animal while M.G. reminded me of
Nelson in Trafalgar square. On this second evening, we allowed ourselves to
remark on a few things, having seen the movie before. Bokhsh even regaled us
with a couple of farts which lightened the mood but stank the room. Bokhsh is a notorious farter in my circle of friends. The following
evening, we went to the pub, played pools and generally drank ourselves silly.
We promised to meet again at my place, the following night, try again to
dislodge the recalcitrant CD and perhaps finally watch the Fockers. We tried everything
we could; we used a knife, a screwdriver, a paper clip, nothing doing!
Resigned, we sighed, popped, each, a beer open and settled for yet another
viewing. The movie was
definitely one of my favourites but, to this day, the low-view shot of M.G. is
perfection. The extreme close-ups were made all the more realistic by my wide
LCD screen.
* * *
* * * * * * * * Eight days later, we’d
ended up watching the movie six times. By the end, we knew it by heart. We could
recite the different parts verbatim. And of course, my favourite shot remained,
you have guessed, M.G. on his horse, looking in the distance with his piercing
blue eyes, on the point of farting into the dough.. euh.. darting into the foe. The following
Saturday, Zee said “Sorry, guys, as good
as the movie is, I’ve had my fill of it.” “Me, too,” said
Bokhsh. I had to agree that
enough was enough and so we went to the “Globe”, the best and only movie
theatre in town. I bet that if you’ve been paying attention, you will have
guessed that the featured film was.. Correct! Brave Heart. We deliberated,
argued, turned to leave but finally I won the vote. I convinced them that since
we were there, we might as well watch the film on a gigantic screen. “You won’t regret it,”
I promised. We got in as the
lights dimmed and were ushered right to the front pews as the place was packed. We sat, or rather
sprawled, looking up at the screen. It was most uncomfortable but it was bloody
worth it. I kept waiting for my
favourite shot with bated breath. It was finally there. Mel Gibson in all his
glory. I could stretch my arm and touch his mount’s leg, I was that close. It was
truly breathtaking. Beyond breathtaking. The horse stamped and snorted. Mel
looked ahead, unmoving. Then slowly, he lowered his gaze, a puzzled frown
formed on his forehead and his mouth curled into a smile. He looked me in the
eye and said: “Woody, what the hell
are you doing here??” © 2014 WoodyFeatured Review
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16 Reviews Added on November 26, 2014 Last Updated on November 27, 2014 Tags: war, warriors, movie, Mel Gibson, evening indoors, CD. AuthorWoodyMateur, Bizerte, TunisiaAboutok, time for an update I think. my old friends have come to know me pretty well, I trust so this is for the new comers. I'm a Tunisian 60-year-old teacher-cum-translator, book worm who enjoys writing.. more..Writing
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