If movies were this good, I’d go every day.

We were planning to go to the Reagan Library. I took my mom to lunch at an Indian restaurant in the West Valley. She’s here for the Jewish holidays. My sister recommended a place with a patio, but I can’t sit in the sun, the pill I take makes me super-sensitive. You know how the pharmacist always warns you? Well, with Gleevec it’s real, I’ve got the sunburn to show for it. My beach days are through. So, I Googled, and L.A. Eater said to go Anarbagh, it was listed first. Now there’s nothing like Indian from a dive in London, and I can’t say today’s dishes were as good, but like Joey Ramone, I like a good vindaloo, and it hit the spot.

So, with the rest of the afternoon to kill I suggested we visit the Reagan Library, in Simi Valley, a mere half hour away, my mother was not a fan of the man but she loves a good museum and I called and they were open and had wheelchairs and after a preparatory pee I realized…

We couldn’t do it. I couldn’t push the wheelchair. Because of my shoulder surgery.

So we decided to go to the movies. My mother goes every Friday night. Recently, she’s seen dogs. But she grew up going to the flicks and she can’t break the habit. I told her about “Narcos,” other stuff you can stream, but she’s got to see it on the big screen.

I figured we’d go see “The Girl On The Train.” But she already knew it had gotten bad reviews. I checked it on the Tomatometer, she was right, it was under 50%. And I suggested “Birth Of A Nation” but time was tight and then I saw…

“A Man Called Ove.” Which had an 88% rating, and few things break 90 on Rottentomatoes.com.

Amy recommended the book. She’s a social worker at UCLA Hospital. She’s the most compassionate person I know. But the story didn’t quite resonate, maybe it was the translation, it seemed a bit too one note, a sour man gets redeemed.

But the film was better than the book. This is only the second time I’ve ever experienced this, the first was with “Wonder Boys.”

So we drove to the Laemmle Town Center.

It’s where the old Jews go. The stooped, the infirm, they’re keeping the foreign movies alive. It was an endless parade of the less than functional, interspersed with Valleyites walking by while we waited for the film to begin. We had an hour to kill. My mother caught me up with her circle. That’s what Jews do, tell the stories of people. This one who made the bad choice, that one who’s in the bad marriage, it’s an endless movie not projected on screen, but based in reality. And when you get older and no one works it’s the petty that gets in your way. Is someone inviting you expecting payback? By taking up that invitation did my mother get herself into a quagmire, will she have to include this woman forevermore?

And it’s a game of musical chairs. Everybody keeps dying. There are only a few left. My mom is gonna be ninety in December. A hard number to fathom, but it will be crushing when she’s gone. For us. She’s ready to go, she keeps saying that people live too long.

So we rode the handicapped elevator down to the main floor. Shuffled into the theatre and were confronted with trailers that were actually interesting. An Israeli movie about finding an old love, I wanted to see it.

And I didn’t really want to see “Ove.” I had a bad experience with “Indignation,” I read the book right before, my expectations were too high, they left the climactic snow scene out.

I go for plot, for story, and if I know it already…

But “A Man Called Ove” was different.

First and foremost, it was a film.

I live in Los Angeles. It’s sunny nearly every day. And I’m not complaining, but I miss the mist and the fog and the snow, they breed character.

And Ove is like me. This I remember from the book. WHY CAN’T PEOPLE OBEY THE RULES! Ove is bothered when bikes are left out, when cars go down pedestrian avenues. I’m bothered when you try to sneak into line, when you toss your garbage from your automobile. I don’t know why I’m this way. Bending rules is so difficult for me. Which is probably why I’d make a bad entrepreneur, because sometimes they don’t even know where the line is!

And in the book, they paint a better picture of Ove’s upbringing, where he’s coming from.

But in the film there’s a better depiction of his marriage.

Bottom line, Ove gets laid off and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. His wife has died and he decides to join her. But he keeps getting interrupted.

Everybody’s so busy getting rich and famous. Sure, social media is communication, but there’s a level of boasting underneath. It’s a giant pecking order and you’re valued by your followers and your likes and everybody can see. Life is no longer for the living, it’s about quantification.

But if you’re an oldster in Sweden…

America has devolved into the land of comic book movies.

But overseas, they’re still telling stories about life.

“A Man Called Ove” is sad, but it’s funny, just like life. If you’re not laughing at a funeral… Or, as Joni Mitchell sang, “Laughing and crying, you know it’s the same release.”

What makes life worth living?

To what degree are we our neighbors’ keepers?

Is what we base our judgment and friendship upon valid? If you drive a Volvo instead of a Saab, Ove is going to have a hard time being your friend. If you drive a BMW, forget about it.

Sure, it’s easier to watch at home. But going to the theatre… You’ve got to make the effort, the room is dark, and when done right film takes you away and informs you about real life.

“A Man Called Ove” did this.

It’s not perfect, but it’ll get you thinking… What is life about? Are  you just a rat in cage? Are you so set in your ways you can’t get out of your own way?

And some of us are burdened with tragedies through no fault of our own.

But we must soldier on.

Ove learns it’s worth soldiering on.