![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A woman of my word: The Dark Knight
Jul. 29th, 2008 09:33 pmYou can read the following story safe in the knowledge that it has a happy ending. Fortunately.
About two months ago, as Ryan and I sat in the theater waiting to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, the trailer for The Dark Knight came on and I excitedly asked if he wanted to see it with me (in IMAX, of course). I jokingly asked if 2 months was long enough for him to save his money (he's the consummate pleader of poverty) and we had a date.
As the day loomed closer, suddenly, subtly, Ryan's "I" statements had transformed into "we." John had been invited, which I didn't have a problem with. As much as I can't stand couples who are joined at the hip, I acknowledge that when dealing with couples an unspoken invitation always exists. Fine.
Then I gradually became aware that John was inviting a few friends -- even Ryan wasn't sure exactly how many. John has a lot of friends, evidently. He's like a hip-hop band: He never appears without at least ten people behind him. This really wasn't fine with me. What had started as a fun little night out for Ryan and me was turning into the social event of the year.
Opening weekend. Shows started selling out almost immediately, predictably. We decided to avoid this madness, and instead shoot for the second weekend (I personally would've waited even longer). We bought our tickets online ahead of time, shooting for Monday night, 7 pm. I hoped a weekday night wouldn't be as popular, but I also feared the second weekend would see everyone who went opening weekend flocking to IMAX to experience it again twice as huge.
By Monday morning our show had sold out, and my anxiety skyrocketed. What didn't help was the fact that both Ryan and John took the whole day off from work just to make sure they had time to get there. Which means we COULD have gone at 10:00 in the morning, everything would have been a breeze -- except we already bought our tickets, and of course there was John's entourage that couldn't make it until the evening.
Then Ryan informed me John's nephew was going as well. We both agreed we weren't going to save seats for anyone, that people were responsible for their own, but this didn't do much to relax me. Two hours before the show I was practically hyperventilating with nervousness. And a fair amount of anger towards John for turning such a simple thing into this monstrous logistical nightmare of coordination (even though I refused to participate). I was so miserable I even contemplated walking away from the purchased ticket and no-showing -- which, if you know anything at all about me, is more against my nature than perhaps even murder. Had I not been particularly poor this week, I might have actually gone through with it.
As I sat in rush hour traffic on my way to the theater, Ryan texted me asking me to save seats, they were running late due to picking John's nephew up. Was I supposed to drape my undergarments over the chairs? I refused. I said I'd be in the back row, I'd do my best, but he was really putting me in a difficult position. He agreed and understood and we left it at that.
This was the line that greeted me when I arrived.
My idea to get there at about 5:30 just to be safe suddenly seemed hopelessly naive. The corpulent ticket taker at the bottom of the escalator asked if I knew where I was going. "Ummm, I'm assuming up those stairs into that line?"
"You're smart!" he answered. I moved past him to do just that when he called to me, "Miss! That way." He was pointing at the elevator at what appeared to be the front of the line.
"What? I can jump in front of all these people?" I asked, incredulously.
"Yep," he smirked.
I assumed I got some kind of VIP treatment because I bought my ticket online or something, though I was highly skeptical. I took the escalator up and entered the theater. I was confused because people appeared to be filing out, while others were already in their seats. So what was with that enormous line out front?
I asked the ushers and a woman who appeared to be a manager about it. I said the ticket taker told me to come straight up. "Joe," they said, rolling their eyes. Joe was very wrong -- the seated people were actually STILL seated from the previous showing. The folks on the steps had been there for 3 hours or more. Boy did I feel like an ass. And more than a little mystified as to why "Joe" deemed me so debilitated that I couldn't just climb the stairs like a normal person.
It all turned out just fine in the end. We were allowed to enter the theater at the appointed time and no one else even tried for my choice seat at the top of the theater. Ryan and John et.al. were only a few minutes behind me. They all sat somewhere in the middle, but Ryan came and joined me, which let's remember was the plan all along anyway. John wanted me to join them, but a large part of the appeal of the back row for me is no chance of being stuck in front of a seat kicker. Paying $16 for a 2-1/2-hour movie, I was determined nothing was going to ruin it for me. Not John, not John's friends, and not the stupid lady next to Ryan who couldn't stop fingering her popcorn bag through the entire movie.
Just before the show started, the manager made an announcement asking us to help them out by throwing away our own trash, since the showing following ours was also sold out (10:20, yeesh!) My question is when did it become universally acceptable to be such disgusting pigs that leave our feeding trough remains at our seats? I mean, you pass the trash can on the way out of the theater, people. It's not like you have to cross an obstacle course like that stupid show "Wipeout!" to get to it. Allow me to refer you to my review of WALL-E for the not-so-tongue-in-cheek outcome of the human race if we get much lazier.
Anyway, without further ado, my review of ( ::The Dark Knight -- not really spoilery at all:: )
The best things I read about the movie were in "Entertainment Weekly." Michael Caine said that Superman is how America sees itself. Batman is how the rest of the world sees America (operating outside the law with limitless wealth and questionable morals). The article also drew the obvious parallel to terrorist activity, and the message that President Bush should be careful about challenging terrorists to "bring it on," because they might do just that.
I'm expecting my negative comments to be unpopular. Over at RottenTomatoes.com, any reviewer who dares look cross-eyed at the movie is getting jumped by legions of indignant fanboys, not all with entirely respectful or mature comments. I'm sorry, but I feel what I feel and I can't change that.
I'll be buying the DVD for sure, which is why I didn't insist on waiting out the credits to see what was said about Heath (because I know there had to be something). 3.5 out of 5, could be upped to 4 after a second viewing at home.
~*~
Totally unrelated, today I typed a medical report for Shia Labeouf, seen at Cedars-Sinai after his car accident this weekend. Despite handling many California hospitals, this is the first bona fide celebrity I've had. I knew it had to be THE Shia Labeouf because a.) his birth date matched IMDb, and b.) how many freakin' "Shia Labeoufs" are there? I won't say anything other than that he'll live. Anything more and I could lose my job. You understand. Tery was disappointed there was no mention made of his drinking habits.
About two months ago, as Ryan and I sat in the theater waiting to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, the trailer for The Dark Knight came on and I excitedly asked if he wanted to see it with me (in IMAX, of course). I jokingly asked if 2 months was long enough for him to save his money (he's the consummate pleader of poverty) and we had a date.
As the day loomed closer, suddenly, subtly, Ryan's "I" statements had transformed into "we." John had been invited, which I didn't have a problem with. As much as I can't stand couples who are joined at the hip, I acknowledge that when dealing with couples an unspoken invitation always exists. Fine.
Then I gradually became aware that John was inviting a few friends -- even Ryan wasn't sure exactly how many. John has a lot of friends, evidently. He's like a hip-hop band: He never appears without at least ten people behind him. This really wasn't fine with me. What had started as a fun little night out for Ryan and me was turning into the social event of the year.
Opening weekend. Shows started selling out almost immediately, predictably. We decided to avoid this madness, and instead shoot for the second weekend (I personally would've waited even longer). We bought our tickets online ahead of time, shooting for Monday night, 7 pm. I hoped a weekday night wouldn't be as popular, but I also feared the second weekend would see everyone who went opening weekend flocking to IMAX to experience it again twice as huge.
By Monday morning our show had sold out, and my anxiety skyrocketed. What didn't help was the fact that both Ryan and John took the whole day off from work just to make sure they had time to get there. Which means we COULD have gone at 10:00 in the morning, everything would have been a breeze -- except we already bought our tickets, and of course there was John's entourage that couldn't make it until the evening.
Then Ryan informed me John's nephew was going as well. We both agreed we weren't going to save seats for anyone, that people were responsible for their own, but this didn't do much to relax me. Two hours before the show I was practically hyperventilating with nervousness. And a fair amount of anger towards John for turning such a simple thing into this monstrous logistical nightmare of coordination (even though I refused to participate). I was so miserable I even contemplated walking away from the purchased ticket and no-showing -- which, if you know anything at all about me, is more against my nature than perhaps even murder. Had I not been particularly poor this week, I might have actually gone through with it.
As I sat in rush hour traffic on my way to the theater, Ryan texted me asking me to save seats, they were running late due to picking John's nephew up. Was I supposed to drape my undergarments over the chairs? I refused. I said I'd be in the back row, I'd do my best, but he was really putting me in a difficult position. He agreed and understood and we left it at that.
This was the line that greeted me when I arrived.
My idea to get there at about 5:30 just to be safe suddenly seemed hopelessly naive. The corpulent ticket taker at the bottom of the escalator asked if I knew where I was going. "Ummm, I'm assuming up those stairs into that line?"
"You're smart!" he answered. I moved past him to do just that when he called to me, "Miss! That way." He was pointing at the elevator at what appeared to be the front of the line.
"What? I can jump in front of all these people?" I asked, incredulously.
"Yep," he smirked.
I assumed I got some kind of VIP treatment because I bought my ticket online or something, though I was highly skeptical. I took the escalator up and entered the theater. I was confused because people appeared to be filing out, while others were already in their seats. So what was with that enormous line out front?
I asked the ushers and a woman who appeared to be a manager about it. I said the ticket taker told me to come straight up. "Joe," they said, rolling their eyes. Joe was very wrong -- the seated people were actually STILL seated from the previous showing. The folks on the steps had been there for 3 hours or more. Boy did I feel like an ass. And more than a little mystified as to why "Joe" deemed me so debilitated that I couldn't just climb the stairs like a normal person.
It all turned out just fine in the end. We were allowed to enter the theater at the appointed time and no one else even tried for my choice seat at the top of the theater. Ryan and John et.al. were only a few minutes behind me. They all sat somewhere in the middle, but Ryan came and joined me, which let's remember was the plan all along anyway. John wanted me to join them, but a large part of the appeal of the back row for me is no chance of being stuck in front of a seat kicker. Paying $16 for a 2-1/2-hour movie, I was determined nothing was going to ruin it for me. Not John, not John's friends, and not the stupid lady next to Ryan who couldn't stop fingering her popcorn bag through the entire movie.
Just before the show started, the manager made an announcement asking us to help them out by throwing away our own trash, since the showing following ours was also sold out (10:20, yeesh!) My question is when did it become universally acceptable to be such disgusting pigs that leave our feeding trough remains at our seats? I mean, you pass the trash can on the way out of the theater, people. It's not like you have to cross an obstacle course like that stupid show "Wipeout!" to get to it. Allow me to refer you to my review of WALL-E for the not-so-tongue-in-cheek outcome of the human race if we get much lazier.
Anyway, without further ado, my review of ( ::The Dark Knight -- not really spoilery at all:: )
The best things I read about the movie were in "Entertainment Weekly." Michael Caine said that Superman is how America sees itself. Batman is how the rest of the world sees America (operating outside the law with limitless wealth and questionable morals). The article also drew the obvious parallel to terrorist activity, and the message that President Bush should be careful about challenging terrorists to "bring it on," because they might do just that.
I'm expecting my negative comments to be unpopular. Over at RottenTomatoes.com, any reviewer who dares look cross-eyed at the movie is getting jumped by legions of indignant fanboys, not all with entirely respectful or mature comments. I'm sorry, but I feel what I feel and I can't change that.
I'll be buying the DVD for sure, which is why I didn't insist on waiting out the credits to see what was said about Heath (because I know there had to be something). 3.5 out of 5, could be upped to 4 after a second viewing at home.
~*~
Totally unrelated, today I typed a medical report for Shia Labeouf, seen at Cedars-Sinai after his car accident this weekend. Despite handling many California hospitals, this is the first bona fide celebrity I've had. I knew it had to be THE Shia Labeouf because a.) his birth date matched IMDb, and b.) how many freakin' "Shia Labeoufs" are there? I won't say anything other than that he'll live. Anything more and I could lose my job. You understand. Tery was disappointed there was no mention made of his drinking habits.
