Revolutionary Road vs Maria

We went to bed at two a.m. last night after two glasses of whiskey. As G. and I sat slumped in our armchairs, chatting peacefully, I looked around our house and positively embraced Maria Callas. I gave her two massive big smakeroons on the cheek, dusted down her skirts and straightened her hair. I even lit a scented candle in her honour. Last night, in the wee hours of a Tuesday morning in late January, I positively loved my mistress and promised that no expense would be spared on her beautification. “Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you,” I said over and over again to her, “for sparing me a life in the suburbs. I know you and I have had our moments over the past five years but we’ve weathered the worst and being together was, absolutely the right thing to do.”

Why this sudden fondness for Maria Callas? Well, because G. and I had just come back from watching a late night showing of Revolutionary Road with Kate Winslet and Leonardo di Caprio. Veerle sent us a rather unexpected e-mail yesterday asking if we would like to have a couple of spare tickets she had for the cinema that needed to be used by the 26/01? We were pleased to accept and, in the absence of any other film that looked interesting, decided to go and see Revolutionary Road. G. had to pick J. and Tuur up from footie at eight so an early showing was out of the question. Luckily we have Inna these days so, unlike a few months ago, a late night trip to the cinema is perfectly feasible.

Kate Winslet and Leonardo give a great performance – more like a stage play than a big Hollywood movie. What is it, I often wonder though, about the suburbs that brings out the ire and frustration in script writers? This is the second Sam Mendes film deriding the suburbs. Betjeman began the trend in the 1930’s when he sneered at suburban conventionality. What, though, is wrong with wanting to live in a green, spacious, safe, comfortable environment? In our first grim year of learning to live with Maria Callas, when the hall-way peeled, water dripped onto the kitchen floor and the house lay in disarray I could think of nothing nicer than coming home every day to a clean, perfectly finished house at the end of a driveway.

I can still see K.M, age four, crying on the stairs saying she hated our house, questioning why we had ever sold the Pieter Coutereel and vowing to go live with her best friend Marie because they had a nice modern house. The worst part was I couldn’t blame her. Looking at the filthy state Maria Callas was in then, the even filthier state of our finances and the never ending round of petty disagreements with contractors, I too was wondering whether I could go live with Marie and escape Maria Callas. I fantasised about selling our mistress and handing her demands over to someone with a bigger wallet than ours – but who would buy a mistress in such a distressing state?

Hey and you guy’s should have seen Kate and Leonardo’s house on Revolutionary Road – it was just amazing! I can’t rave enough about their furniture, artwork, style. The windows! The light! It looked like something out of an Elle photo-shoot. I would have been first in line for their garage sale before their big move to Paris. I had my eye on quite a few of their table lamps which I just can’t seem to source anywhere around here – plus their kitchen chairs, and that pale green sofa in the living room …. and the bed room furniture … but I digress.

When the credits began rolling I looked at G saying, “Geeeee, G. aren’t you glad we opted for Maria Callas rather than a comfortable house outside of the town? We could be divorced, or worse, by now if we had settled for a suburban solution.”

It was tough getting up this morning though. Am glad I didn’t opt for the third whiskey as I was seriously tempted to do. We still have a busy week ahead of us. Now, we must get round to calling contractors to get the best price for painting the front of our dame.