For my group project in film class, I did a report on the films of Wes Anderson… almost all of which are rated R. In fact, I think at that time, they all were. I managed to get through Rushmore without getting busted by Leah. One evening, I sat down with my roommate and partner in crime, Mandy, to enjoy, for the umpteenth time, The Royal Tenenbaums.
In the middle of the tent scene, Leah walked in the front door. We hadn’t heard her coming up the stairs, hadn’t heard her keys in the door. We looked at each other, wild-eyed. WHAT DO WE DO?
After exchanging pleasantries, Leah flopped down on the couch next to me. I tried to fast-forward mentally. When was the next cuss word? The next glimpse of Gwyneth Paltrow’s breasts? And how to escape this awful, awkward situation? I couldn’t stop the movie– then Leah would know it was a movie, and know it was a movie I couldn’t watch in front of her. This was strike three! I’d gotten two warnings– what would happen this time? Would she tell our bishop? The honor code office? MY MOM?!
I grabbed the remote, and turned the television off. We sat there in the darkness for a moment, before I said, “This movie’s too weird for me!”
“Yeah,” Mandy chimed in. “They’re brother and sister!” That girl, she catches on quick.
“Gross,” said Leah. She got up from the couch and went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas.
I got up like a shot. “I can’t believe they can put this stuff on TV,” I yelled back to Leah, smashing all the buttons on the player in an attempt to extract the movie. After what felt like an eternity in Outer Darkness, the movie ejected. I threw it to Mandy, who shoved it under the couch. For the rest of the evening, we sat around, nervous that for some bizarre reason, Leah might decide to look under the couch, which would be the end of apartmental harmony as we knew it.
She didn’t. She went to bed, and The Royal Tenenbaums was returned to its hiding place in my sock drawer.
We watched Disney movies the rest of the semester.
