A few months back, Alanna and I were watching Sexy Beast. The first fifteen minutes of this film are glorious; Gary and his friend, whose character name escapes me, both retired mobsters, live in the Spanish country side, which really looks like heaven on earth. Their awkward tan lines and growing waist lines don't matter at all. That's how happy they are. One night, they go out to dinner with their wives and decide on the calamari before Gary's friend tells him they've been recruited for one last job by Don, the godfather of their crew. What ensues is an emotional mindfuck. For the next two hours, I wondered why the film couldn't have ended in the restaurant, with Gary proclaiming his love for calamari. "I love calamari," he could have said approvingly, leaning his chair back with his heels, patting his gut with one hand and rubbing his disproportionately hot wife's knee with the other. That would have been my kind of movie*.
If you're still with me here, last night the thirteenth season of Survivor ended with a real "I Love Calamari" sputter. First things first, my main man Yul won the million dollars. Hip Hip HorAsian! Secondly, he did so after leading his Aitu Four to the final four. Once there, they all sat around camp, singing folk songs while Becky and Sundra braided each others' 39 days of leg hair growth. Okay not really, but they might as well have...that's how much of a love fest it was. Becky would rather have been true to the foursome than take Yul up on his offer to use the immunity idol to guarantee herself a spot in the final three (that's right, this season THREE people were considered for the million). And the four of them very fairly voted to a tie at the final tribal council, so a tie breaker would determine whether or not Becky or Sundra was in the final three. It was about as melodious as one of those Brady Bunch episodes where the kids suddenly learned they can sing, only to find daisies floating all around them while they danced in bellbottoms.
It was great. You may hear the naysayers arguing that they missed out on the Susan-calling-Richard-Hatch-A-Rat moment, or the Johnny-Fair-Play-feigning-his-grandmother's-death plot twist. They are wrong. How nice to see four people honestly and intelligently make it as far as possible in the game. I bet each and every one of them loves Calamri. And so do I, Aitu final four, so do I.
Also, last night Sekou, the first Survivor voted out this season, graced the audience with an original song he had written about the show. Honestly, it sounded like music accompanied by a string of drawn out farts, which happened to sound a little bit like the word survivor.
*This is actually a very good movie.
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