So I dashed from work to a venue called The Reel Room for a media screening of the "Dirty Sanchez" movie (a Welsh version of "Jackass"). After deadline yesterday and technical problems today, I was in need of some rock-driven schadenfreude. Exchanging pleasantries with the publicist and projectionist, I was handed the press kit for something called "The Story Of My Life".
"I think I'm at the wrong screening," I said, pulling up short.
"What movie did you want to see?" asked the publicist.
"Er...'Dirty Sanchez'," I answered sheepishly.
"Oh, that was cancelled," explained the publicist.
"No-one told me," I said.
"Typical," observed the projectionist.
"Um, what's 'The Story Of My Life'?" I enquired.
"It's a French romantic comedy," said the publicist with some amusement.
"A much better film," added the projectionist, "but you didn't hear that from me."
"OK, I'll see it."
And I did. And it had me chuckling the whole way through, leaving the theatrette feeling all warm and fuzzy, like I did after 2001's "Amelie" (God, has it been that long since I saw a French film?). Admittedly, the above is a simplified and condensed version of events, but you get the idea: a mix-up that turns out unexpectedly all right. That's the story of *my* life.
[Starts in Oz cinemas on October 19]