#Ammonite scenes movie

But that moment is extremely fleeting and truly no time later, Ronan’s husband - announced via a letter - sends a carriage that whisks her away. Rachel was right, and we watch the two “ok ish” sex scenes, but honestly I spend much of the rest of the evening yelling things at my television like, “Kate Winslet is eating out Saoirse Ronan right in front of my own eyes and I am still bored!” To Ammonite’s credit, there’s a moment where Ronan is atop Winslet and she’s leaning her face and arms and entire body weight into the wall the bed is pushed against that made me raise my eyebrows for just a moment and think, Oh, okay, somebody did their homework.

#Ammonite scenes movie

At least hanging the giant mirror together felt queer, unlike this movie that we now have to finish. This takes half an hour and ultimately we drilled the anchor holes way too high and slightly crooked so we’re going to have to redo the whole thing later. At this point, we pause the movie and decide to take a break to mount a giant IKEA mirror we bought months ago and never got around to hanging, so it’s been sitting in the hallway of our building threatening to crush us every time we walk by. It’s a decision I’m starting to regret.)įifty minutes into the movie, Ronan, finally recovering from her fever - which she got from nearly drowning herself in the frigid ocean because a “doctor” told her swimming would fix her sad, weird lady brain and can’t imagine why losing a child might have affected her in such a severe mental way - tells Winslet it’s silly she’s sleeping in a chair and invites her into bed. (We also note the upcoming Clea Duvall Christmas rom-com, which I forewent this evening to watch Ammonite. “Yes, they have zero chemistry,” Rachel agrees, before we diverge into a conversation about how we wish this movie were about Fiona Shaw, the town’s mysterious rich dyke. “The lesbian tension requires nothing to cut it because it doesn’t exist!!!” I shout through the phone.

Okay, I think, something to look forward to. There’s like 2 ok ish sex scenes,” Rachel tells me. “I’m a third of the way through and all Saoirse Ronan has done is appear damp to various degrees? I’m so bored?” I respond, desperate to know if I am broken or if this movie is as much of a snooze as it seems. At this point, I text my friend Rachel, “Hello, have you seen Ammonite?” “Hello yes,” she replies. Ronan is recovering from a fever by spending days and nights in Winslet’s bed while Winslet keeps watch from a wooden chair across the room. I’m getting major ex vibes between her and Winslet. Okay, good, with him gone maybe this can finally get gay. This man is married, of course, to Ronan, whom he unceremoniously dumps into Winslet’s care while he leaves town for work for a month or so. What little proceeds involves mostly mud and crashing waves and Winslet quietly excoriating a dumb man who is just slowing her down as she trawls the coast clawing through muck for specimen. Not, like, on a technical level (the HDMI-cord-to-television setup we’re using is chugging along great). I slightly overcrisp the chicken and, after disarming our smoke detector, we sit down to eat and cue up the film. A nice dinner and two hours of British accents and sidelong glances between two excellent actors who would eventually have some - so I’d heard - decently steamy and realistically queer sex. What could be better, really? I thought to myself while whisking together egg yolks and oil in a metal bowl. But still, you get to call the whole thing a salad and feel vaguely good about eating something nutritious. And chicken breaded in panko and fried in my cast-iron skillet such that it becomes essentially a giant, golden crouton. Extra anchovies and lemon in the dressing. We’re making chicken Caesar salad, a house favorite. The plan is to cook dinner for my girlfriend and then park it on the couch together to watch Ammonite, the new lesbian period drama starring Saoirse Ronan and Kate Winslet. This piece originally ran in November, but now that Ammonite is finally available to watch on demand, we’re republishing it.

At least hanging a giant mirror with my girlfriend during intermission felt queer, unlike this movie.