|Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before|
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Anyway, I went by myself. I like going to the movies by myself. Some people say they would never do it. I enjoy it. You've just gotta be careful not to drop popcorn butter on your crotch. While I do like to go with other people, I don't understand the need to go with someone else, because you are supposed to be quiet during a movie, hence no talking. Some people still don't get that.
When I got in to the lobby, there were these two people who were so annoying. I'd say they'd be stereotypical annoying people at a theatre, but I'd be offending stereotypes. Someone who is a stereotype would see these people and be like, "Good Lord, I'm not that bad, am I?" So I was praying they were not going to see Big Fish. No they weren't. If they were, I would have asked for my money back right there. They were off to go ruin Monster for some fine people.
Now I am sitting in my seat and two people sit behind me. Man and woman speaking Italian. And they are talking kind of loud. Fuck. It's bad enough for people to talk, but if I can't understand them, that might even be worse. But no. They were good Italians throughout the entire movie.
Of course right as the movie is about to begin, two NYU girls sit in front of me. They sit in seats where they aren't necessarily in my way, but I can tell they have an annoying potential. I wanted to move, but I also didn't want to be that guy. That guy who moves and sighs heavily even if people talk during the previews.
The movie starts and these girls start talking to each other. One leans her head right. The other goes left. Right. Left. Right. Left. But they are really quiet and I can't even hear them. So somehow it wasn't that bad. It bugged me that they were talking to each other, but their actual voices and talking didn't really affect the movie. They were also eating soup from a Chinese restaurant and later on had a pre-popped microwave bag of popcorn that was smuggled in.
Ten dollars and twenty five cents to walk through the door. More power to 'em. Just stop crinkling the fucking bag, please. Still, though. It wasn't that loud. Not loud enough where I'd say something or move.
But then. Oh Lord, then! Then one girl looks at her phone (which was silenced, but glowing like a log of Kryptonite), and she answers it!
So here is where I should go nuts, right? I should yell up to the guy (or the computer) that is running the projector and say, "Stop the movie! This bitch just answered her phone!!!" Then everyone would throw their popcorn and Cherry Cokes and Mike & Ikes and their shoes at this girl. Right? That's the next logical step in this story.
But somehow, she's quiet. She is talking on her phone, I'm three seats away from her and I can't hear her. These are the most courteous people without etiquette I've ever seen. They are committing every taboo in a movie theatre, but somehow doing it politely.
So her phone rings (or glows) twice more - once it was for the other girl - but it still wasn't as annoying as it should have been. So then the other girl, the one closer to me, falls asleep for a while. Her pal wakes her up after about ten minutes, because she was beginning to make sleep noises. Not loud snoring noises, but just nice little noises. I almost wanted to spoon with her.
She wakes back up, in time to see the end of the film, and she starts crying! By my estimate, she has seen only about half of it, but she is invested enough to cry. Damn. Me? Not a tear to be found. Not even a little choked up. Nor was there a chill anywhere on my neck or arm.
Oh well. Next time. When the credits come on, I'll just punch myself in the nuts.
I think I realized I don't cry at movies. I never have. I remember leaving Schindler's List, expecting to cry. Everyone was saying how sad the ending is so I wanted to cry. And it was true. The movie ends, I look around and everyone is crying. I was just kind of like, "So, um. We're going to the diner, right?" I felt like I had to cry. I think I even tried to force out a tear. There was a feeling at the time of the movie, where if you didn't cry, it was the equivalent of saying, "Hitler did have some really good ideas."
Actually, the only other person who didn't look like they wanted to cry was my friend Dennis who looked at me after about ten minutes of the movie and said, "Is this whole fuckin' thing in black and white? You gotta be kidding me." He fell asleep and didn't wake up until the credits. So he was all about the diner.
I'm not good at crying I suppose. I was in a play in college where I was supposed to cry, but I couldn't. I said to the director, "How about instead of crying, I just flip the fuck out?" He concurred and that's how it went.
So there it is. I can't cry. But I can flip the fuck out.
And that is my review of Big Fish.