True Stories From The Theater
According to early projections, the weekend box office has beaten the same period in 2004 for the first time in 19 weeks. The awful reviews didn’t stop Fantastic Four from pulling in the crowds, and for some reason, people were still interested in watching Tom “Crazy as Hell” Cruise survive a poorly planned alien invasion.
The drop in attendance has been blamed on DVD sales, home theater equipment, and ticket prices, but it’s really due to a variety of other factors. Personally, I’m tired of people who insist on talking during the movie. Call me a Nazi, but I don’t even like it when people talk during the previews (which are sometimes better than the movie). And beyond the usual chit chat, there are also those that loudly repeat the most recent line of dialogue prefaced with “He/she said…”. Is there an echo, or is that a service for the hearing impaired that nobody told me about?
I’m not completely intolerant. I suffered through The Santa Clause 2 while a small blond child repeatedly kicked my arm. Sure, I gave him the glare of death a few times, but it must look similar to the face I make when I want someone to continue kicking me, because that’s what happened.
And although the light emitted from a cell phone’s LCD screen triggers the part of my brain that controls murder, I’m usually able to resist that urge by hissing “where the hell is that light coming from?” in Nicole’s general direction. She’ll usually humor me by glaring at the nearest available stranger. Hate is best applied in broad strokes.
Watching movies at home isn’t perfect either, and I certainly don’t have a giant TV and surround sound, but the popcorn is dirt cheap, and there are free refills on soda. My advice? Go to the theater early and catch the first show of the day. Most of the idiots are still asleep in their parent’s basement, and the slackers that did bother to show up aren’t awake enough to be annoying.
Could I BE more positive? Grasp hands around the circle.
