I went to the movies last night. Gasp and throw things wildly in the air, readers, because it is true. (Now pick things up and put them neatly away.) You Kill Me. If I had made the movie, I would have done it a tiny bit differently. If I tell you how, it may spoil the movie for you. Oh, you want me to tell you anyway? Very well, if you insist.

Ben Kingsley plays an alcoholic hit man whose condition is adversely affecting his work. For no reason I can tell he is sent to San Francisco to dry out. He works at a funeral home making dead people look nice, which is cutesy but I let it slide because there he meets Téa Leoni, with whom I have been in a fight since Spanglish (plot summary within a plot summary: My wife is powerful and independent and so very mean. I want a woman who doesn’t speak my language and is my subordinate. Oh, Spanglish, I love you) but who begs for my forgiveness by being very good in this movie, and so is forgiven. Let’s never fight again.

Fine, so they love each other and he needs to dry out so he can get back to killing people but then should he keep killing people? Montage of them practicing knife work on a watermelon together. What I’m saying is, one starts to hope that this will turn out to be like Trouble in Paradise, in which two people meet and realize that each is at heart the same kind of criminal, and then love each other madly and commit crimes together. But while Leoni helps Kingsley wrap things up via knife and gun, there’s no indication that they then kill people together into the sunset. So in the end it’s a good movie, when it could have been better than good.

There are very few things I couldn’t improve.