Pinky and I caught the sneak preview of Marie Antoinette last night at the Midtown Art Cinema. Contrary to what she thought of my opinion of the movie, I thought the time spent watching the movie was worthwhile--the movie itself is quite picturesque and the characters likable. I've never been one to criticize a work because of historical inaccuracies (indeed, the movie does get points from me for including a pair of Chuck Taylors in the shoe montage).

We found ourselves, however, lamenting the movie's interminable length. Sofia Coppola seemed far too enamored of the aforementioned picturesque locales and actors. It may be a novel conceit to pair the scenes of this historical drama with modern, new-wave and punk hits. She lingers too long on these moments, however, basking in her own cleverness. I found myself in supreme discomfort as the last twenty minutes or so ticked away thinking, "Good heavens, cut off their heads already!"

A group of girls behind us thought less of the film than I did, but as Pinky and I worked our way out the entrance to the theater, I heard better reviews from the murmuring in the crowd. It made me pause to consider if my bad review was a result of the seating we ended up in--2nd row from the front with retro-fitted cup holders jutting into my knees from the row in front. Perhaps we would have enjoyed the movie more if we had seen it in a theater with stadium seating, where our legs could stretch out comfortably, and our necks weren't sore from craning to watch the screen.

Or perhaps filmmakers should make films where you can enjoy it from any seat in the house...