Here’s my capsule summary of “MI3” (or maybe that should be MI III):
Too much Cruise, not enough Philip Seymour Hoffman.

All movies should have more Philip Seymour.

The reason I’ve written that tiny review, rather than hide my shame for having seen the movie (file under, things we do for love), is that it must be less than stellar for causing me to doze not once but twice. Last night, at the regular movie theater, I didn’t full on start sawing wood. But, in that resting your eyeballs way I intermittently skipped some of the dialogue with my waking mind. What the hell? I thought, it could have been the rich dinner, the wine or the dessert accompanied by a fortified dessert wine whose name I forget.

But, tonight while re-living the thrill of teenage years without the bag of weed and six of Michelob, I introduced M. to a peculiarly American locale — the drive-in moving picture the-a-ter. Poor guy had never been.

It’s a bit chaotic at the Century Capitol Drive-in Theater in San Jose with fences in places I can’t figure out, but the lack of oversight in sight means you can scoot over to one of the other screens. When our flick was done, M. was back admiring his virtual boyfriend, Tom Cruise. This time I dozed off in the comfort of my own car without any wine. What does that say about the action of that movie?