This weekend I dragged my sinus-laden self out to catch up on some of the Oscar contenders I have yet to see. I wanted to see Revolutionary Road. Josh wanted to see Slumdog Millionaire. We compromised on Frost/Nixon.
As anticipated: it was vg, and predictably I left the theater asking Josh to explain details of Watergate to me and have since loaded up my Netflix queue with other Nixon-themed movies (Nixon, All the President's Men) to complete my movie-education of history (is there any other way?).
Obviously Frank Langella was vg as Nixon (although I still think no one deserves this year's Best Actor Oscar more than Sean Penn for Milk and you are not going to change my mind, no way, no how). I was delighted with myself that I had actually interviewed several of the main players in Frost/Nixon for other movies, including Langella himself.
I had a 1:1 with him last year for Starting Out in the Evening, yet another littttttle indie, in which, he was, among other things, briefly naked, which I did not at all enjoy as he is not exactly a spring chicken. He even referred to his nudity in the film during our interview, saying it was harmless since it was just 'a bit of a little old man in a bathtub.' I felt otherwise, but I opted against sharing that with him.
The two most interesting things about interviewing Frank Langella were:
1. My mother oddly creamed over the fact that I interviewed him, informing me how he was 'hot' back in his day. This did not help with the bathtub bit.
2. He informed me, out of the blue, that I should have children. I am not sure exactly what we were talking about (Starting Out in the Evening, duh) and in context he asked me how old I was, and I told him, and he asked me if I was married/had children and I answered (yes/no). And then he basically was like, 'Well, you should have children,' and followed it up with, 'You would be a good mother.' To which I responded (affably, if I do say so myself), 'Um, okay, well, I'll get right on that.'
I'm not exactly certain what quality I exuded that made him so certain of my obvious maternal qualities. My buxom bosom? My gorgeousness of which the next generation should not be deprived? My ability to ask probing questions while not saying things like, 'I still have nightmares of seeing you naked'? I have no idea. But whatever the reason, he certainly felt it with conviction--when I left and was saying goodbye, he called after me, just in case I forgot, that I should indeed have children.
Obviously I went home and told Josh that Frank Langella commanded us to procreate. I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Langella, that the jury is still out on whether I am going down that path. But should we choose it, we will clearly have to name all our children after you.