On a Saturday afternoon in September outside a downtown movie theatre, in a lineup of people waiting for tickets to see The Love Crimes of Gillian Guess (Force Four Entertainment, directed by Bruce McDonald), a tiny woman with glitter makeup on her cheekbones started talking. “Is this the right lineup? My friend’s related to Gillian Guess—she’d get so mad if she knew I told anyone. My friend looks good; she looks so good. She’s lost weight. You know, I lost weight too. Took me a year. I was a hundred and twenty-five pounds, but I’m five-foot-one and I should be between one-ten and one-thirteen, and I am now. It’s all diet; I didn’t exercise at all.” The tiny woman patted her hair. She was wearing elf boots. “My son is married and his wife doesn’t let me see the kids. I call and she says, I’m taking them to Spiderman. Spiderman plays six days a week. She just doesn’t want me to see them, and they know it. Kids aren’t stupid. Now my son wants to move back home. We built an extension on the house for them, but his wife didn’t like it, so I said, fine, go buy your $400,000 home—and now he wants to come back, and I said forget it.” In the movie, Gillian Guess wore short skirts and stilettos, even while serving on the jury in court, except in the scene where she first met Peter Gill, the accused murderer. He pulled her out of her seat in the fast food restaurant, and a moment later their clothes became flannel pyjamas and they were dancing cheek to cheek across the surface of the moon.