Darling,
The kids take up a lot of our time. As a result, our nights out alone together are precious. I’m sure you’ll agree that going out for a movie and dinner is a luxury. Like taking a wee vacation.
That’s why I’m going to have to ask that we stop seeing Nazi films before dinner.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love history. Especially World War II history. If I had to pick a war to fight in, that’s the one I’d choose. Good versus evil was clearly defined. Just like in Home Alone.
But, whether they’re documentaries or based on a true story, these pre-dinner swastika-fests are just not working for me.
I have no doubts that the summary execution of Sophie Scholl really affected our perception of the appetizers. Though I can’t say I’m crazy for radicchio, I was enthusiastic about my smoked cheese and your fried artichokes. But that enthusiasm was tempered by the beheadings, which stuck with me until well after the cappuccino. And that’s not right, darling. Dinner should be about good times, not Gestapo.
Remember Downfall? Amazing film. Remember where we ate afterwards? I don’t. I kept thinking about Ma and Pa Goebbels. The poisoning of six kinder should be followed with some sulking on the sofa, not a fine dining experience. Not even a casual dining experience with free breadsticks and bottomless salad.
Know what was on my mind after Primo Levi’s Journey? Not fondue.
Now, darling, it’s not like we can’t see Nazis anymore. Quite the contrary – I’m still fascinated by them. Always will be. We can watch them in a variety of venues. Just not before dinner. I can’t go from Treblinka to truffle fries any more. If I’m going to pay $12 for a salad, I’d like to want to eat it. Not only do the Einsatzgruppen not whet my appetite, they lead my appetite to a pine forest and shoot it in the back.
Before the Fall was really good. Not a high body count either; quite notable for a film with Nazis in it. But, you know, even with a moderately priced bottle of wine I’m going to think about Himmler. So, please, let’s have a dining experience unmarred by the SS. I really think it’d be nice.
A lighthearted romp might set the tone. A romance. A romance between two men on a mountain. Dragons. Another Jane Austen remake. I’m game for almost anything. Just not Der unbekannte Soldat or The Ninth Day. If it lacks goose-stepping and J-Lo, I’ll see it. And then we’ll go to a nice restaurant for a dining experience untainted by Goering. You pick the place, Mein Frau.
Just so you know, I thought about having dinner before the movie, but a burger-Bergen-Belsen evening doesn’t work for me either. When it comes to the finite number of quiet evenings we have together, I hope you’ll be a trooper and agree to make them as Hitler-free as possible.
XOXO
Your Husband
What, no Prawn Goebbels? The only thing missing from this essay is an allusion to the “Whatever You Do, Don’t Mention The War” episode of Fawlty Towers.
You have a wife who will willingly see WWII movies, and you’re complaining? You should count your blessings and be thankful.
The shocker for me was that this didn’t end with, “Your wife.” I read the whole thing with her voice in my head.
Perhaps you and the wife could consider a “Bunkers and Brunch” date?
All the Gesta … I mean, gaspacho, you can eat!
Skokie never tasted so good.