If you dropped by my blog around this time last year, you’d know three things:
(2) We made a point of going to see the aforementioned film.
(3) We sort of made a ladies’ agreement that, should Mr. Cumberbatch return, we would be back. Of course, that pact also included throwing our money at gala tickets, donning hot dresses and painting the town red.
On that third point, we obviously talk a big game, but don’t have any follow-through, because none of that’s transpired.
For starters, things have been so busy in general that neither of us had the time to try to score gala screening tickets.
Plus, Renée’s gotten herself a great new job, which means no hanging out on red carpets. (Which, obviously, is completely valid.)
So, up until Thursday, I was pondering whether I should:
(a) reprise my role as amateur fan-gawker (albeit solo) next Tuesday evening (September 9), when The Imitation Game – a historical drama in which Cumberbatch portrays British mathematician (logician, and computer scientist, among other things) Alan Turing – has its first screening and red carpet,
(b) join the rush line for the second screening on the following day (September 10).
I’d been on the fence for several days over what to do.
Then, I had a little conversation with my friend Tess.
She’s a TIFF veteran (or is that TIFFicianado? Just check out her ever-relevant handy guide for navigating the festival right here), to whom I’d mentioned that I really wanted to see The Imitation Game and figured – between the Cumberbatch fans and cinephiles in general – my chances were extremely low.
She directed me to a really handy blog, where on one post, people would trade or sell tickets. Perhaps someone would have a lone ticket. I did check, but no dice.
But then, Thursday happened.
While chatting online with Tess, she caught wind (via Twitter) that the festival had added a third screening on September 11th.
Well, of COURSE, I told Renée. And by 8:30 a.m. on Friday morning, she managed to secure three tickets for her, a mutual friend, and me.
Only a few questions remain: Will I see more than a chiseled cheekbone this time around? Will I be the Lady Who Lingers? Or – being a year older, and hopefully wiser – know when to walk away?