In which I describe the third of five movies I will see with the hubs (#59) and wish I could carry off a bonnet.
A week ago, the hubs and I headed out to see another movie on a whim. We’d been looking forward to seeing The Conspirator, about the trial of Mary Surratt following the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. I know very little about the conspiracy, and after watching the movie, I still know very little about the conspiracy. It focused on the legality (or lack thereof) of the trial and the rush to convict the alleged conspirators to help heal the country as the Civil War ended.
As if one act of justice — or “justice” — was really going to make people completely willing to accept the sundered kin back into the fold.
We enjoyed this movie, and it certainly continues the streak of really liking James McAvoy. (Mr. Tumnus, how you’ve changed.) And Robin Wright (a.k.a Buttercup) was moving in parts, but mostly delightfully stoic. I wondered how I would feel about Rory Gilmore, but I had no strong feelings about her either way. She was sweet, and she could definitely carry off a bonnet. I, of course, look ridiculous in all hats. I wonder if I could bring back the bonnet?
But I digress. You should go see it.