Ashley and I have just returned from what must be as close to a perfect movie-going experience as one can possibly have. We went to Frederick (the hotter, more sophisticated older sister of Hagerstown, about half an hour down the road), to the Weinberg Center, formerly the Tivoli, to see my favorite film, Sherlock Jr.
What a sublime time.
Besides Sherlock, they also showed The Boat, one of the best of the two-reelers Keaton produced before moving into features full time in 1925. Whether or not The Boat is the best Keaton short is a subject for good-natured debate amongst other Buster nerds; I only know that it is where the members of the Buster Keaton Society get their nickname (the Damfinos), and that it is the only silent comedy I am aware of to end on a verbal punchline (“Fuck you.” . . . No, I’m kidding — “Damfino”).
A wonderful film, watched in a wonderful place, with a wonderful girl. And afterwards, we ate at the Waffle House.
What more could anyone ask?