The Matador. Good but not Denver.
If there’s one thing I hate about living in Denver, it’s the misconception about my beloved adopted city: It’s cold, it snows constantly, Denver itself is in the mountains, I know John Elway personally, and the women are a bit standoffish–except to cowboys and Jeremy Bloom.
All wrong, save for that last bit about Bloom any women. How does he do it?
I remember when I first moved here in 1995–wide eyed and 21 years old, ready for everything. A newly befriended person tells me that first year “It never fails. During Monday night football and in the movies it always snows. It keeps people from moving here.” But if they do [move to Boulder], Niwot’s curse will make them stay.”
(more after the jump)
This, my dear internet readers, is true. It always snows (it seems like it — I’m not an Almanac, eh?) during Monday night football and in the movies. The movies especially. Remember “Cliffhanger?”
Well, here comes a great movie, “The Matador.” Brilliant, even. If you haven’t seen it, you should, as it’s earned its way to my Top 10 list of movies in the last few years. And that’s a hard feat to do with company like “D.E.B.S.” and “The Whole Ten Yards” on that list. I gest, of course. Sort of.
Not only will “The Matador” make you feel good for what you do for a living and that your kids are still alive and well (more of that in the movie), but remember the last guy who played James Bond, Pierce something or other? His performance borders on brilliant. How he wasn’t nominated for an Academy Award is beyond me. And the dialog he utters when he first meets Greg Kinnear in a bar in Mexico City will have you never drinking a margharita again without having phallic memories. But it’s worth the experience — and those memories — to hear Brosnan say the words.
Anyway, the moment you see the words “DENVER” flash across the screen in bright red all capital sans serif letters there’s a part of you that wants to shout and clap (remember when you saw “Things to Do in Denver When you’re Dead? Shit, you were clapping the moment Andy Garcia drove across the Speer St. Bridge — don’t tell me otherwise.) But instantly you stop, collect your breath and prevent your hands from meeting each other in mid air — Wait, that’s not Denver! Is it? Naw. Can’t be. The scene ends so quickly that you have no idea what to think — and you search the theater looking for a sign you may have missed something but all you see is blank stares and hands suspended in the air as if Mr. Freeze himself shot his blue raygun at the crowd. No one is sure what they saw.
Until you get to DIA — supposedly.
And guess what? It’s confirmed. It’s not only NOT DIA, it’s not even an airport. Probably a convention center or something in Los Angeles (after all, they shot the airport scene in “12 Monkeys” at the Philadelphia Convention Center). You feel gipped. Robbed. You want your money back. Too bad the movie is so f**king good.
Then, about two-thirds through the movie, when Brosnan appears late one night at Kinnear’s doorstep (another classic scene), we see it happening: the director hitting us over the head with the “It’s Denver!” schtick: SNOW and COLD.
Yeah, right. It was most likely 63-degrees in Denver that day. I was wearing sandals and cargo shorts while Greg Kinnear and Pierce Brosnan frooze their nipples off in Calgary just to get the shot. And guess what? I’m right. The Matador wasn’t even filmed in Colorado at all.
Will someone please, please, please tell people that Denver ain’t so bad.
Or not. Crap. Are you reading this from outside the state? I meant to say Yeah, sure, whew…it’s dang cold here today. Wearing my longjohns and I’m still cold.
Christ. Almost inherited another Texan there for a moment. Good save, Kyle. Good save.