Not A Review Of “Red Eye”

So recently we finally watched Red Eye, Wes Craven’s romantic comedy in which Cillian Murphy and Rachel McAdams meet cute at an airport, have a nice little romance on the plane, and break up when they land, only to reconcile when Murphy realizes he can’t live without her and tracks her down at her father’s house to ask for his permission to marry her.

 

No, I’m kidding. Cillian Murphy is totally a psycho in this movie. Just ask my wife.

Wife: “He’s a psychopath, isn’t he?”
Me: “Yes he is! Well, more of like a spy or an assassin, I think.”

Red Eye is a movie I’d wanted to see for a long time—pretty much since it came out, way back in 2005—but had never quite gotten around to putting in the queue. So when it turned up on HBO*, I seized on the chance to rectify this oversight. As it happened, the viewing occurred on my wife’s birthday.

Wife: “This is kind of a weird birthday movie.”
Me: “Yeah, I know. But I’ve been wanting to see it for years, so I guess it is a birthday present ….. For me.”

Despite its declared status as a weird birthday movie, my wife actually stuck around to watch it with me, drawn in, I think, by the presence of Rachel McAdams front and center. (She has no idea who Rachel McAdams is, but I assured her that she had seen her in a number of other films.) However, she soon became riveted by something else entirely.

Wife (referring to Cillian Murphy): “He’s wearing more makeup than she is.”
Me: “That’s because he’s so pretty.”

She spent a good chunk of the middle of the movie enumerating Mr. Murphy’s various appearance enhancers.

Wife: “Look at that. He’s wearing lipstick.”

And:

Wife: “Does he have eyeliner on?”

And:

Wife: “Something is funny about his face.”
Me: “He’s got some pretty epic cheekbones.”
Wife: “No, not that. He’s wearing blush.”
Me: “Well, okay. But he still has pretty epic cheekbones.”

She couldn’t quite believe some of Mr. Murphy’s other features were not similarly enhanced.

Wife: “His eyes couldn’t possibly really be that color.”
Me: “Oh I think they are.”
Wife: “Are you sure?”
Me: “Pretty sure.”

I tried to explain that, in some quarters, Mr. Murphy is considered pretty dreamy**, but my wife wasn’t having any of it.

Wife: “Are you kidding? He’s ugly. I mean … maybe it’s all the makeup and that stupid haircut. But I don’t see it.”

Still, despite the presence of Mr. Murphy’s repugnant visage, my wife stuck around to keep watching, and stayed awake for the entire movie. This is close to unprecedented for a film of this nature that isn’t The Professional. It might have helped that the movie is only 85 minutes long; it might also have helped that she was getting a footrub for almost the entire time, although, to be honest, the footrubs usually put her to sleep rather than keeping her awake.

Me: “So what did you think?”
Wife: “It was pretty good. For that kind of movie.”

High praise for Red Eye. High praise indeed.

* Yes, we still have HBO, even though Game of Thrones has been off the air for almost a year. What can I say? My wife got hooked on Barry. Plus this way I don’t have to make do with short YouTube clips of John Oliver anymore.
** Or so I’ve heard.