After watching a string of “serious” movies, K and I thought we’d change it up and see something fun and frivolous. We booked two “extreme luxury” seats for an afternoon showing of Batman. The seats were extremely luxurious. The two of us represented half of the audience for that performance. And the movie was unmitigated torture – bad in every possible way for nearly three hours.

The following evening, still suffering from Batman-induced PTSD, I found Kill Your Darlings, which turned out to be the perfect antidote.