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The most liberating aspect of Abby Langdon’s—nay Abby Colfax’s—official divorce from Frank Langdon is the freedom to openly admit all the little things about the man that just pissed her the fuck off. The first, and most obvious, being his lack of timeliness. Even on the rare occasion that the culprit isn’t work, there’s always something that makes Frank late—or, even worse, altogether absent. Her right eye still twitches thinking about how she was an entire hour late to her own father’s retirement party because Frank couldn’t remember where he’d put his only pair of dress shoes. Which, like, what kind of grown man—on a doctor’s salary, no less—owns only one pair of dress shoes!?
She can even admit, spurred on by the delighted cackles of her best friends, how much she loathes his cooking.
It’s not that he doesn’t know how to cook. God, she wished that were the problem. Instead, it’s that he can’t ever cook something fucking normal.
No, in lieu of normal comfort meals like pot roast or chicken tacos, Frank Langdon peruses recipes on NYT Cooking and purposefully chooses the most ridiculously ambitious recipes, ones with outlandish flavor combos that take no less than three hours to prepare. And after visits to multiple grocery stores to find the unnecessarily complex ingredients, a minimum of $100 spent on groceries for one meal, and an overflowing sink of dirty dishes, Penny and Tanner usually don’t even bother sparing a glance at whatever stupid Michelin-esque monstrosity he’s whipped up. And after all that, Abby is the one stuck slapping Kraft american cheese between buttered bread slices for two grumbling toddlers, mentally calculating how many days in a row she’s going to have to scarf down the same leftovers to justify how much Frank has spent on ingredients as she presses her sad attempt at last-minute grilled cheese sandwiches to the only pan Frank has managed to not use.
To this day, Abby can’t even hear the words gojuchang and fusion spoken in the same sentence without wanting to combust.
But the most cathartic thing that Abby can openly make fun of Frank Langdon for are his absurdly pretentious, overly obnoxious opinions on movies—or films, as Frank would say. Which, not to be petty or overly technical, but like, isn’t it more appropriate to call it a fucking movie if the thing isn’t even shot on fucking film!?
Back when they first started dating, in freshman year of college—before her prefrontal cortex had fully developed—Abby had thought it was cute that Frank was a self-described cinephile. At first, she liked how he introduced her to these artsy, high-brow movies. She thought it was adorable how he’d work himself into a tizzy talking about so and so director’s brilliant use of imagery and symbolism, yada yada yada. But the cuteness wore off pretty quickly when she realized Frank is the kind of guy that can’t enjoy a movie for the simple joy of mind-numbing entertainment. Like, God forbid a woman wants to watch Robert Pattinson be a sexy hundred-and-four year old high school student instead of some obscure foreign art-house film that’s more confusing than anything.
All things said, Abby’s not exactly proud of how mean-spirited this all is, but once she’d realized she’d reached the state of post-divorce life where it’s acceptable—encouraged, even—to make fun of her ex-husband with her friends, well, obviously the first thing she does is log into her Letterboxd account, search for cinefrank94, and send screenshots of the best and funniest of Frank’s long-winded, pompous reviews to a group chat of her closest friends.
And when her friends reply with texts like “Does bro know he’s not getting paid for this” and “Sometimes the side chick ain’t even a chick, it’s 83 year old Canadian film director David Paul Cronenberg”, well, Abby can’t help but feel vindicated for the hours she’s clocked over the years watching movies that are less entertaining than watching paint dry. And after all, they do say that laughter is the best medicine. So, naturally, this little therapeutic venture is one that lasts way longer than it should have.
And because Frank fucking Langdon just has some innate ability to rob her of all joy—excluding the joy of motherhood, of course—it is through these very same Letterboxd reviews that Abby finds out about Dr. Melissa King only three months out of the divorce. Because, of course, Frank couldn’t even have the decency to let the fucking ink dry before moving on with a younger hot blonde co-worker. God.
~
It starts on a random Saturday morning in early September. As Abby’s finishing up drying the dishes, thinking about what she’ll get up to once she drops the kids off at Frank’s place after his shift, she hears the quiet vibration of her phone. Picking it up, she grins once she sees it’s a text from her best friend and former college roommate Alicia, sent in the group chat with their other friends. Clicking the notification, Abby stifles a giggle when she finds the message, which reads “Was thinking about seeing The Long Walk tonight. If only there were a film bro with an unnecessarily expensive Criterion Collection subscription to tell me whether it’s good or not…”
It’s a new bit they’ve all been enjoying. Someone will mention a movie they want to see, any movie, and Abby will consult her absolute favorite film critic, THE cinefrank94, to see if he’s reviewed it. If he’s given it anything more than 3.5 stars, it’s a no-go. If he’s given it less than 3.5 stars, or even better, if he hasn’t logged it at all, it’s a hell yes.
Chuckling to herself, Abby opens the Letterboxd app, fingers absent-mindedly searching for Frank’s account. Clicking on his profile, she mentally prepares herself to be greeted with whatever multi-paragraph, undergraduate intro to film class-esque review Frank’s logged most recently.
Except, as she reads through his most recent review, Abby considers briefly whether she’s having some kind of years-delayed psilocybin hallucination.
...Because Frank Langdon’s most recently logged review is for Elf.
The fucking Will Ferrell movie.
And, Christmas movie in September aside, Frank told her once that he thinks Will Ferrell is “completely overrated in terms of comedic films.”
Briefly, she wonders if she should report a case of hacking. But who would she even report that to? The FBI? And who on God’s green Earth would hack someone’s Letterboxd account, of all things?
Perhaps even more damning, Frank’s given the movie a five star rating. With a review of less than ten words.
A review that simply reads "Great movie for great company.”
Maybe he’s having some kind of psychotic break. Or, alternatively, Abby considers briefly whether this may be some kind of early-ish midlife crisis. Like, maybe instead of buying a red sports car and gallivanting around with scantily clad young women, Frank Langdon, known film snob, has become the kind of guy who enjoys Will Ferrell movies, of all things.
After a minute or so of bewilderment, Abby takes a deep breath and exits the Letterboxd app on her phone, reminding herself that yet another joy of divorce is that she no longer needs to look after her ex-husband as if he were her third child. Even if something at the back of her mind tingles at the words ‘great company.’
~
Exactly three weeks later, Abby is lazily sprawled on her living room couch, absentmindedly scrolling through Netflix as she searches for something new to watch to occupy yet another child-free weekend. It’s a bittersweet thing, all this sudden free time. In a way, it was obviously much-needed. Abby really didn’t know how much longer she could’ve managed the responsibility of being a married single mom, knowing that she had to manage two toddlers and a household on top of constantly worrying about her over-worked and emotionally numb husband.
Although there were small clues beforehand, Abby knew for certain that the marriage was over Frank’s first night in rehab. When she went to bed that night, house spotless, kids fed and tucked in courtesy of her mother and her emergency flight in from Dallas, Abby realized that the strange quietness in her mind was relief. Relief that, for however long her mother agreed to stay, she didn’t have to be the only one in charge. And even though her husband was away, and would be for the foreseeable future, Abby felt like she was no longer alone for the first time in years.
It still took a while for her to admit that things were well and truly over. In the end, it was Frank, no longer emotionally-numb and strangely present after all the rehab and therapy, who had been the one brave enough to quietly wave the white flag and call it quits.
And while Abby enjoyed the time she got to be just herself instead of Abby the mother and Abby the wife, she still got bored and missed her kids with a fierceness when they left for their father’s. And she was running out of shitty, mind-numbing movies to watch during all her childfree nights.
With a reluctant sigh, Abby set the television remote down and opened the Letterboxd app once again. Maybe the movies Frank had rated poorly could double as her to-watch list. Except, as she reads through his recent reviews, Abby once again feels—ironically enough—as though she’s been transported into some strange Lynchian alternate universe. Because the most recent film Frank Langdone has logged is Ella Enchanted. Unlike Elf, however, this review is a bit longer, and a lot more Frank-sounding. It reads (obnoxiously):
Ella Enchanted (2004)
Watched September 27, 2026
★★★★☆
“It’s easy to write this Cinderella re-telling off as a silly children’s movie, as was my natural instinct. But sometimes all it takes is a different perspective to see what you’ve really been missing. At its core, Ella Enchanted is about feminism, self-empowerment, and finding your autonomy in a world that demands everything from you. I can see why this film could be inspiring for young women who are confined by the responsibilities thrust upon them, whether they’ve willingly assumed those responsibilities or not. There is, of course, still some patriarchal messaging that the movie could do without. For example, why is Ella’s love for Prince Char the catalyst in breaking Lucinda’s curse? I think the feminist messaging of the film would’ve been a lot stronger if Ella’s independence was borne of her own journey, but I cannot deny that overall this is a much more empowering ending than Cinderella. Also, I am informed that my opinions re feminism in Ella Enchanted, while well-intentioned, do overshadow another of the film’s important messages, which is apparently that sometimes love can teach you all the ways in which you are worthy and strong. (Apparently the love need not be romantic, hence all the friendship themes, and hence why I am apparently wrong about Prince Char’s involvement in Ella’s journey to independence being semi-patriarchal…or so I am informed). Overall, great so-not-just-for-kids film.”
It’s not like she can chalk this up to Penny’s doing. At three and a half years old, Penny isn’t quite at the age when (some) little girls become enamoured with princess movies and all things pink and “girly.” No, Penny is still pretty much content toddling after her older brother and digging in the dirt for roly-polies. Also, September 27th was one of Abby’s days with the kids. Also also, she doubts her three and a half year old is really debating the feminist merits of a fantasy movie musical released in 2004. Staring down at her iPhone, Abby can no longer deny it. Something strange is going on with her ex-husband.
Abby spends the rest of her weekend going back-and-forth about whether or not to bring up her ex-husband’s surprising watch history.
On one hand, she’s kind of cultivated this image as Chillest Divorcé in America™. In spite of all the ways Frank Langdon made a terrible husband, he was still, at his core, a great guy, and an even better father. For all his shortcomings, he really had done his best, given the circumstances. And, well, at least he never cheated. So she’d made the divorce proceedings and the custody agreements and all the financial discussions as painless and agreeable as possible. If anything, it set her free as early as possible too, which was a blessing.
But, on the other hand, Abby is nosy. And partially concerned that her ex-husband has been kidnapped and replaced with a robot programmed with the film preferences of a thirteen year old girl.
And so, on Sunday evening, when the kids come bursting through the front door, running unsteadily on their tiny legs, Abby listens half-heartedly as Frank gives her a summary of his weekend with the kids.
“So, uh, what’s been up with you? Anything new lately?” she asks once Frank has managed to finish his recap, including three side-tangents about public park infrastructures, ice cream toppings, and the most common head injuries suffered by children.
By this point, Abby has managed to subtly circle Langdon like a shark, inspecting his back for any kind of loose wires or electrical paneling that might confirm his robo-status. Ultimately, she’s managed to rule the robot theory out on account of a stark lack of either. Well, that and the fact that she just doesn’t think technology is advanced enough yet to replicate the kind of semi-greasy bird’s nest Frank is currently sporting.
“Uh, no, not really?” Frank responds, tone dripping with confusion, brows furrowed as he shoots Abby a concerned look. They typically keep these interactions brief and centered on the kids, so Abby does her best not to take his skepticism personally.
“What about you?” Frank adds as an after-thought, scratching at the aforementioned bird’s nest.
“Nothing much,” Abby drags out, her words sounding like nooooothing muuuuuuchhhh.
They stand there staring at one another for a moment, awkwardly waiting for the other to speak.
God damnit, I’m going to have to be more direct, Abby thinks to herself, silently huffing in frustration.
“You, uh, watch any good movies recently?” Abby asks, voice low as she aims for nonchalance.
“Uh, nothing that really stands out. Been kinda busy, honestly,” Frank answers puzzledly. Once again, Abby feels her eye twitch in the way that only Frank Langdon can cause it to. Because of fucking course, her chatterbox of an ex-husband clams up when it comes to something she actually wants to know after going on about fruity toppings versus chocolatey toppings for no less than 15 minutes. She really might strangle him.
“Right,” Abby finally answers, voice tight and high, mouth pinched, eyes narrowed. “Well, see you next week,” she says, ushering a baffled Frank out of her house.
“Don’t forget Penny’s recital Wednesday,” she shoots out before slamming the door in Frank’s open-mouthed face. (That was mostly to be petty, she knows Frank is pretty diligent about checking the color-coded shared custody calendar. Fucker).
~
Abby’s Letterboxd stalking shamelessly revs up in intensity until its final culmination in mid-October. During this period, she consults the trusted groupchat, who all agree that something is most definitely amiss with one Frank Langdon, amateur film critic extraordinaire.
“Do you think maybe he’s seeing someone? I mean, it kind of sounds like he isn’t watching these movies alone,” Alicia replies to the screenshots.
“Idk, Ella Enchanted and Elf aren’t really giving sexy date night movie vibes. Maybe he’s just trying to bond more with the kids or something???” Stacy sends back.
“A grown man choosing Elf (in September btw) or Ella Enchanted for date night in lowkey sounds like a hostage situation. Idk, maybe he’s gone crazy without u Abs. I’d be distraught if I lost a baddie too 😔” Heather responds.
Either way, Abby’s been checking Frank’s reviews almost daily, hunting for any more unusual activity. She finds out exactly what the fuck has been going on with Frank Langdon just before a much-deserved girls’ night out.
—
Abby is sitting at her vanity, rollers meticulously set in her long brunette hair, crooning off-key to Promiscuous Girl by Nelly Furtado. As she’s swiping a cool-toned taupe shadow onto the outer corners of her eyelid, mouth open like a fish as she carefully blends her eyeshadow, it occurs to her that she hasn’t checked cinefrank94’s profile in a few days.
Slowly setting down her brush, Abby reaches through the mess of makeup and hair products littering her vanity to pick up her phone. She can’t explain it, but the room feels eerie and suddenly stuffy as she unlocks her phone, the muffled voice of Nelly Furtado singing I'm a big girl I can handle myself, but if I get lonely I might need your help playing softly in the background.
As she reads through Frank’s most recent review, Abby is transported to a memory from early in their relationship, before they’d even deemed themselves boyfriend and girlfriend.
—
Abby blinks slowly, bleary-eyed and tired as the credits roll.
“Well, what did you think? I know you’re a huge James Spader fan,” Frank says, his voice cutting through the sleepy fog enveloping her. Abby smiles softly, cuddling closer into Frank as she resists the urge to correct him. She’d mentioned once that she thought James Spader was kinda hot as Steff in Pretty in Pink. Somehow, in some way, Frank’s brain has managed to translate this one-off comment into her being a huge fan. She doesn’t think she can even name another movie starring the man. Other than the one they’d just watched, of course.
“I dunno,” Abby says simply. “I thought it was kind of weird,” Abby’s voice flows from the spot she’s burrowed into under Frank’s arm.
“Weird how?” Frank presses. Abby sighs before sitting up, rubbing at her eyes. She can tell by the tone of Frank’s voice that he’s got a lot to say about the movie, but all she really wants to do is fall asleep.
“I don’t know. Like, obviously weird sex stuff aside, I thought it was kind of sad. Like Lee is clearly emotionally disturbed and lacking direction. And I feel like they try to paint this situation with her boss as some kind of beneficial alternative to her hurting herself, but in a lot of ways it feels equally harmful. Like she’s giving this man, who clearly has issues of his own that he needs to work through, the power to control her. I just don’t see them getting married as something happy or healing when she’s still using pain to cope with her issues. It doesn’t really matter that she’s just given someone else the power to dole out the pain,” Abby blabs, trying to piece her thoughts into something semi-comprehensible.
“But don’t you think maybe you’re placing too much emphasis on the physical side of pain? Like, what about the fact that they’re doing much better emotionally when they engage in this kind of relationship? And the fact that they both clearly like the pain stuff? Doesn’t that count for something,” Frank counters, brows furrowed as the arm splayed across Abby’s shoulders shuffles to drum against the back of his worn dark blue futon.
“I don’t really think so,” Abby continues through a yawn. “I think this is just a depiction of two people that are struggling internally using each other to cope instead of properly working on their issues. If anything, I think their relationship is like a self-serving distraction. Like slapping a shitty bandaid on a deep wound, or something,” Abby replies, using the last of her energy to peek up at Frank as she speaks.
“Hmm, not sure I agree,” he says, brows furrowed as he looks into Abby’s eyes. With a deep breath, he smacks the back of the futon with finality before he shimmies up, forcing Abby to fully remove herself from where she’s leaned against him.
“Let’s get to sleep, yeah?” he asks quietly, a strange expression on his face. Abby is too exhausted to pry. Instead, she nods eagerly, yawning again before shuffling around Frank’s messy apartment to get to his equally-messy bedroom.
—
It is this memory that emerges from the abyss of Abby’s mind, unbidden and unwelcome, as she reads through Frank’s most recent review.
Secretary (2002)
Watched October 14, 2026
★★★★★
“I watched this movie for the first time over a decade ago now. At the time, someone pointed out to me how the relationship between the main protagonists could be considered unhealthy; they thought that Lee and Mr. Grey were using one another (and BDSM, I suppose) to avoid dealing with their own internal problems. I didn’t agree, but I couldn’t really articulate why. Now that I’m older and apparently wiser (or so the adage goes), I think I finally have the words and the life experience to articulate why I don’t agree. Secretary, more than anything, is about two people who feel ostracized and burdened by the demands of daily life, finding refuge and comfort in one another. E. Edward Grey, an insecure man that is able to take charge when necessary, finds security and self-assuredness in the power and trust that Lee gives so freely. Mr. Grey needs to be needed, and Lee fulfills that need. And Lee, equally troubled but unable to thrive without rigidity and strict rules, finally feels free and secure enough under Edward’s care to rise to societal demands without harming herself. Lee needs Mr. Grey in equal but opposite ways. To steal the words of a special companion that tagged along for this re-watch, “He’s a lover to Lee, but in many ways he’s so much more. Mr. Grey is the one person who feels like an adult that can take care of her.”
Secretary may be taboo and strange, but it is also a story about love and acceptance, and two lonely, sad people finding happiness in the discovery that they are each other’s missing puzzle pieces. I think that’s really beautiful.
(Side note: watching this movie, whether you regard it positively or not, may be one of the best ways to find out early on if your date is the right person for you. Don’t ask me how I know).”
Beneath Frank’s review is one singular reply. It reads, “Docmelking: ❤️”
With shaking hands, Abby clicks on the profile, recognizing the name of the coworker Frank has mentioned sporadically. She finds all the explanation she needs as she reads through Dr. Mel King’s own review.
Secretary (2002)
Watched October 14, 2026
★★★★★
“‘In one way or another, I've always suffered. I didn't know why, exactly. But I do know that I'm not so scared of suffering now. I feel more than I've ever felt, and I've found someone to feel with, to play with, to love, in a way that feels right for me. I hope he knows that I can see that he suffers, too. And that I want to love him.’ Wow, what a beautiful quote.
As someone that really resonates with Lee and some of the struggles she faces, this film and the romance between Lee and Mr, Grey means so much to me. Thank you to the man who has shown me this film for the first time. I think that maybe I have found my very own E. Edward Grey in him.”
Similarly, underneath Docmelking’s review is one singular reply. It reads, “cinefrank94: You make me feel more than I’ve ever felt, Mel :)”
Abby feels her eye twitch yet again as she exhales deeply, her manicured hands swiping at her phone screen, exiting the app to text her group chat. “Actually, can we pregame in 20 instead of meeting @ the club? Need to be as drunk as possible ASAP.”
Then, with an angry press of her thumbs to the phone screen, Abby deletes the Letterboxd app entirely.
Grumbling, she adds a shimmery champagne shade to the center of her lids as she wonders what other joys in life Frank Langdon can manage to steal from her without even trying. What a douchebag.