... at that Friends of Film screening of "Atonement" (it opens Friday): I know it wasn't the greatest movie you've ever seen (the refinement, the "shocking" vulgarity, the cheekbones). But was it necessary to express your disdain (you were being disdainful, right?) by whipping out your emory board and proceeding to file your nails? Never mind that I usually do that over the sink in my bathroom or on a lonely walk in the park, but your session lasted for three scenes. I know because the sawing was all I could think about, and at such a majorish moment, too: your manicure began during a death scene.
It's true that was a dull scene, but not the one after it, in the hospital. Remember? Oh, that's right: saw, saw, saw. How many talons do you have, anyway? No one needs a three-scene filing. Yes, agreed: the cell phone that went off three times was annoying. But how does that excuse you? And why am I the only Friend of Film who turned around to shoot you a nasty look? (Friends just don't let friends file their nails.) Why did I have to do it four useless times? Your husband didn't bat at an eyelash. (What a champ.) Neither did the couple you made a big deal of holding seats for. You didn't ruin the movie for me. For the most part, the movie did that all by itself. But that sort of public hygiene might be a moviegoing nadir. And for that, madame, you should atone.
