I Did Have a Moustache…Really I Did!
Outside a new blanket of snow quiets down Mountain Road. It’s cozy as we all sit around in our bathrobes, sip coffee and wake up. Cindy has come up and last night we watched a movie. Or should I say, I watched it after the rest of the people went to bed.
La Moustache was the film. Nobody liked it but me. It began with a man shaving his face in a bathtub. Carefully, he clips each hair and finally finishes the soup-strainer off with his razor. He thinks it’s a big deal, something about having that moustache for so many decades. After the shave, his sultry girlfriend looks at him, not noticing the missing ‘stache. They go to visit friends, toting a gift for their young daughter. The couple tells long stories about a weekend in Burgundy where somebody turned the heat too high and blew fuses.
No matter how many times he looks right at them, nobody notices the change. It frustrates him, he wants them to say something. He comments on his hostess’ new hairdo. “A nice change,” he says. He digs out photos of the couple in Bali, when he clearly had the moustache…yet nobody accepts this as a fact.
Whatever he does, he can’t get anyone to see…and they begin telling him he never had a moustache at all. They can’t figure out what he’s talking about…he’s frustrated to the point of insanity, and flies off to Hong Kong. Maybe there they’ll stop telling him he’s crazy. I am fuzzy about the ending, except that it sort of faded out….and I’m not sure they ever told him they noticed.