"Now that ... that's horrible," Evey declared, momentarily flabbergasted by the scene unfolding before her eyes. "I mean, that's just ... horrible."
It was rare for Evey to be quite so damning of a simple little film. At least, any film that she might spend a leisurely evening watching with her mate. That'll teach her to take recommendations across the office water cooler. Comedy schmomedy, this thing was becoming ... well ... horrible.
V had reserved comment for the most part, sitting quietly on the sofa as the celluloid-based fiasco played out. It certainly wasn't his typical fare slap-stick comedy taken to a most surreal limit, but he willingly accepted it as Evey's choice. Besides, it was listed as a 'classic comedy' on the interlink.
Oh it had started out well enough, managing to be mildly amusing. The lead character was a bumbling, onscreen detective unworthy to even set foot in the real Scotland Yard. But on the Gallery's large screen television, he waved about the credentials of Chief Inspector. And he did fall down quite a lot always to a laugh track.
Then there was the lady jewel thief. So beautiful. So glamorous and seductive. So hopelessly infatuated with that same inept detective, while *he* worked to solve her rampant crime spree. Their interpersonal chemistry was sorely lacking, but in an odd twist of fate that made it slightly more believable when he missed every single clue she shoved in his face. To which was he more oblivious: the ample bosom with which she tried to entice him, or the stolen ruby necklace draped just above it?
And finally, there was the bandit's poor, suffering husband.Accepting his wife's story as to her inheritance of the jewels; playing chagrin over the detective's ubiquitous presence to a truly farcical extreme; all while trying to maintain the sheen of his marriage to his pompous and equally shallow aristocratic friends.
Evey wasn't certain for whom she felt the sorriest; or *at* whom she should actually be laughing. At least the actor portraying the detective had mastered physical comedy, providing the film's best redeeming moments.V had even chuckled once or twice, particularly at the detective's 'mishap' down two flights of stairs.
But this latest 'joke' was neither redeeming nor redeemable, and if it qualified as 'physical comedy', it was only physical in one of the most indelicate ways possible.
"Oh, Jacque," the sultry jewel thief had purred, as she lounged in a chair beside her mansion's expansive and expensive pool. "You glorious, glorious man, you."
At that point, the face of the bumbling Inspector 'Jacque' had indeed popped up from behind a distant chair. He was dripping wet from having been in said pool; and comically wrapped around his head was a net he'd been using to fish out a stolen Cartier watch. His expression of panic over having been caught was played for all it was worth. The only problem was, she wasn't speaking directly to him. His unbelievably incompetent sleuthing had not been detected. Rather, the jewel thief was speaking to her husband.
Who was on that chair *with* her, sharing an extremely intimate moment.
And whose name was not 'Jacque'.
Thus came Evey's condemnation over a moment that she found more tacky than humorous, and more awkward than enjoyable.
The poor, flamboyant husband didn't even notice at first, pausing his rather amorous activities only after a full five seconds had passed. Then he sat upright, looked pompously indignant, and uttered the excruciatingly predictable question, "Who is 'Jacque'?"
Of course, by now, the audience was supposed to be doubled over in fits of laughter. -- -- The inspector was making a frantic escape into the surrounding shrubbery; getting poked, scratched, and generally assaulted by a rosebush that seemed to have a life of its own. His hat had been plucked from his head, he'd been nearly catapulted off his feet, and his arms were flailing wildly. Absolutely hilarious, right? ... ... Evey, however, waited with bated breath until the camera flashed back to the couple in the pool chair. And there was the smooth, cool jewel thief, stroking her husband's cheek, and cooing, "Just a name, my pet. A 'pet' name?"
