The Beige Girl Hears Some Words She Loves

So I'm at the movies--watching the hunky Clive Owens in The International.  His hunkiness is about all that recommends this very boring and improbable film--until . . . cut to the bad guy (who had been English speaking until this moment) at home playing chess with his son.  Subtitles appear--but lo and behold, the little beige girl (me) in the dark doesn't need to read the words.  They're speaking Danish.  The father and son exchange a few lines--no one ever says: oh, the bad guy is Danish--in fact, I am guessing I am the only one who could identify the language they spoke.  It was pure delight!  It was like I was suddenly home.  So thank you to The International for that.  It made the movie worthwhile.  It made my whole day!