AN OPEN LETTER TO COLIN FIRTH

AN OPEN LETTER TO COLIN FIRTH

Dear Sir,

I must address a situation that has arisen for which you are somewhat responsible.

This particular day is one on which, in America, one finds an extraordinarily gross display of wealth, marketing and sado-masochism on the television. Avoidance of this particular event has become essential to my life.

Americans, as you probably know, are, for the most part, a selfish, self-involved lot that tend toward violence and buffalo chicken wings.  There are, however, perhaps 150 or so of us who have who have moved away from the two-fisted Budweiser-Dunkin Donuts drinking and profanity to appreciate some finer cultural virtues that do not involve testosterone poisoned individuals slamming their precious bodies against others of similar dimensions.  While the other 350 million of my fellow Americans will be gorging themselves on beer and nachos, I will be at my local, semi-independent cinema.  Several years ago I realized that I had seen, on successive last Sundays in January, one of your films on each of those days.  The years of “A Single Man” and “The King’s Speech” were particularly gratifying.  There was the one year that I had timed my cinema-viewing incorrectly and arrived home at Halftime which required that I find a small television in an upper room and pop in a very well-worn copy of “Love Actually” but I have done better in subsequent years with scheduling.  And there was the year that I chose to go shopping but, really, I’m not a shopper.  I’m a filmgoer.  Hence, that was a wholly unsatisfying year.

After my viewing of “The King’s Speech” I began to refer to this particularly Sunday in late January/early February (it is late this year, isn’t it?) as “Colin Firth Sunday.”  Many of my friends have picked up the habit, as well.  Your onscreen persona, Sir, is the epitome of the antithesis of, (there is no way around this; I must refer to it as others do) Super Bowl Sunday.  You appear cultured and refined, as most Brits do to us Americans, but you add a tangible sensitivity that is not often found in American film stars. That you are British is essential, too, as the British do not give a fig for what Americans call “football.”   Your films present us with a handsome, articulate (especially as King George) man with depth and tears, a soupcon of the mercurial and a solid dependability. In short, just what my friends and I need when our houses fill with beef chili, braggadocio and thudding helmets. 

This year, however, I find there is not one of your films being screened at a cinema anywhere near my home.  This is a horrifying situation. Must I resort to watching a film with the Other Colin in it?  But, no, I have already seen that film.  And, besides, the Other Colin’s film persona is one of debauchery, not at all adhering to the Rules for Colin Firth Sunday. A friend has suggested that I see “The Wolf of Wall Street” because a trailer for your film XXXX is attached to it. That, too, would not meet the criteria for “Colin Firth Sunday” as Martin Scorsese does not understand the female psyche in the least and would defeat my purpose in being absorbed by intelligence, culture and Earl Grey Tea. 

I realize that you are not strictly in control of when your films are released but you are a powerful individual in your chosen field and you must, I am certain, wield some authority in this regard.  I am imploring you, from the depths of my Earl Grey-drinking, Downton Abbey-watching, “Pride & Prejudice”-reading soul, please find it in your power to make certain your devoted contingent of “Colin Firth Sunday” advocates have something in at the cinema to see next year on this date.   Our very sub-culture depends upon it.

Very truly, most assuredly yours,

Mary Alice Holmes