Martello and Trofie Wife recently took advantage of the original language theatre yet again, meeting in downtown Genoa post-work for a viewing of The Wrestler. Having mentioned on this blog before my impressions of the quaint matinees, I discovered that the evening shows are quite another (crowded) story. Trofie Wife was wise enough to advise that we purchase our tickets prior to getting a quick bite to eat. By show time, the ticket line was well out the door; the theatre was kind enough to hold up the film until everyone still waiting could purchase their tickets and get seated (like that would ever happen in New York!). The crowd was mostly an Italian one, either eager to hear English, or, more likely, just annoyed by all that dubbing. More so than other films I’ve seen here, The Wrestler is definitely contextual; I think the more you know of New Jersey, the better you are able to understand many of the references. I’m sure most of our readers have seen the movie by now, so I will only add that Mickey Rourke was every bit as good as advertised, and Trofie Wife enjoyed the stroll down memory lane (oh how I loved late ’80s-early ’90s WWF pro-wrestling!).
Incidentally, we ran into several of Martello’s co-workers, who he did not know were coming (I gladly offered up my NJ translation services). After the show, we joined them for a quick nightcap, where I learned what amaro was (apparently some sort of Italian bitters akin to Jagermeister; I have yet to try it, I just asked what it was when I saw it in a port-sized glass) and scored a ride home. Despite the late bedtime, we somehow managed to rouse ourselves early enough so that Martello could get a glimpse of the Friday market. We purchased some fresh vegetables and fruits and then Martello headed to his job, while I returned home to mine.
Baci e gelato,
Martello e Trofie Wife
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