"Did you ever have one of those days where you just want to drop a bomb on the whole world?" -John Lithgow
So I saw "Up In The Air" on New Year's Day. Not a great experience.
My sleep schedule is all messed up. The past few weeks have kept me sleeping during daylight hours.
I would rouse sometime after dark, like some kind of vampire. I prefer it that way. The Sun is no friend of mine.
But the past few days, circumstances kept me from getting any real sleep. Maybe an hour at a time. That gets annoying.
My dear mother asked me if I wanted to see "Up In The Air" on New Year's Day. I wanted to see it, too, so I agreed. Let's go to the cinema, and watch George Clooney attempt to earn 10,000,000 frequent flyer miles as he flies across the country, firing people for pussified CEOs in this shit economy.
Sounds like fun.
My mother takes a long nap, and we get to the movieplex with little time to spare.
In the rush, I forgot to grab my coat. Bad decision. 17 degrees at 1:15 pm.
And the wind! Don't forget the fucking wind. 5 degree wind chill. And I'm stuck without my coat.
We get to the box office, with two couples in front of us in the queue. The first couple is buying 20(!!!) tickets to a later 3-d screening of James Cameron's delightful "Avatar". This takes far longer than it should.
Finally, they sod off, and only one thick couple stands between us and a 1:20 screening of "Up In The Air".
Unfortunately, these people want to see "The Blind Side". And "The Blind Side" is sold out, much to the surprise of the thick couple in front of us.
But not to anybody else, because right underneath the display card featuring the start times for "The Blind Side", clearly visible to ANYONE WITH EYES, is a very large and easy-to-read sign saying "SOLD OUT".
But apparently the homunculi in front of us can't read. So they take a few minutes to decide what else they want to see. Finally, they decide to see the latest "Alvin and the Chipmunks" atrocity, and they waddle off to their final destination.
1:22 pm. Shit.
Finally, we buy our tickets, and we're off to the theatre, right? Wrong. Mother wants popcorn. She never sees a movie without popcorn.
So we go to the concession pavillion, where we find ourselves behind a particularly stupid father, and his particularly stupid young son. The concession clerk is clearly having a bad day, wandering around aimlessly in search of emtpy popcorn tubs and soft drink cups, looking surly.
The little boy keeps staring at the LARGE popcorn tub in front of him, repeating: "Daddy, is this a large popcorn?" He literally says this twelve times in ten seconds. Finally, the clerk barks "Yes, it's a large popcorn!" as he hands the father his change.
At this point, with the transaction completed, a previously unseen second young and stupid son materializes at his father's knee and starts screaming.
Apparently, daddy forgot to buy the little ghoul his Raisinettes. So the empty-eyed father buys the monster his candy. Then the "Idiocracy" trio disappears into the bowels of the cinema, and out of my life.
1:27. SHIT.
Finally, it's our turn at bat. Mother orders her popcorn and Diet Pepsi. I decide since I am so tired, a medium Dr. Pepper might help keep me awake.
The clerk starts wandering throughout the whole concession area, looking for a soda fountain with Dr. Pepper. Finally, he informs me that the cinema is OUT OF DR. PEPPER.
Great. Just finish the fucking transaction, so we can get to the fucking movie.
1:31. Motherfucker.
The only obstacle standing between us and our movie experience is a very elderly couple arguing with the usher about the location of their screening of "Sherlock Holmes".
The usher keeps pointing to the main auditorium, directly in front of them. They don't seem to understand that the main auditorium is playing the movie they paid to see. This is a complete mystery to them.
After about 30 seconds, I grab our tickets, tear them myself, and hand the stubs to the usher before walking past the bickering old retards, to see fucking "Up In The Air".
I did notice the usher giving me an odd look, but he said nothing to stop me. Fuck him.
We get inside the theatre as the Paramount logo fades from the screen. The theatre is packed. The only available seats are in the front row.
There should be no front row in any respectable cinema. It's some kind of sick fucking joke.
So I spend the next 2 hours staring directly up at a massive screen, trying not to fall asleep. Luckily, the rather large Ox sitting behind me was more than willing to help keep me awake by kicking the back of my seat every ten minutes.
How thoughtful of him.
It's January 1st, and I highly doubt I will have a more thoroughly miserable movie-going experience this year.
"Up In The Air" was really good. I was pleasantly surprised by Vera Farmiga's nude rear end twenty feet high and directly in front of my face about twenty minutes in. Danny McBride's beard distracted me.
Everyone in the auditorium was so tickled by the "Wichita" sequence in the middle of the film.
People always love it when their hometown is depicted in a movie. Well, almost always.
As I recall, nobody in the audience was terribly thrilled about the depiction of Wichita in "The Ice Harvest".
I love that movie.
So I saw "Up In The Air" on New Year's Day. Not a great experience.
My sleep schedule is all messed up. The past few weeks have kept me sleeping during daylight hours.
I would rouse sometime after dark, like some kind of vampire. I prefer it that way. The Sun is no friend of mine.
But the past few days, circumstances kept me from getting any real sleep. Maybe an hour at a time. That gets annoying.
My dear mother asked me if I wanted to see "Up In The Air" on New Year's Day. I wanted to see it, too, so I agreed. Let's go to the cinema, and watch George Clooney attempt to earn 10,000,000 frequent flyer miles as he flies across the country, firing people for pussified CEOs in this shit economy.
Sounds like fun.
My mother takes a long nap, and we get to the movieplex with little time to spare.
In the rush, I forgot to grab my coat. Bad decision. 17 degrees at 1:15 pm.
And the wind! Don't forget the fucking wind. 5 degree wind chill. And I'm stuck without my coat.
We get to the box office, with two couples in front of us in the queue. The first couple is buying 20(!!!) tickets to a later 3-d screening of James Cameron's delightful "Avatar". This takes far longer than it should.
Finally, they sod off, and only one thick couple stands between us and a 1:20 screening of "Up In The Air".
Unfortunately, these people want to see "The Blind Side". And "The Blind Side" is sold out, much to the surprise of the thick couple in front of us.
But not to anybody else, because right underneath the display card featuring the start times for "The Blind Side", clearly visible to ANYONE WITH EYES, is a very large and easy-to-read sign saying "SOLD OUT".
But apparently the homunculi in front of us can't read. So they take a few minutes to decide what else they want to see. Finally, they decide to see the latest "Alvin and the Chipmunks" atrocity, and they waddle off to their final destination.
1:22 pm. Shit.
Finally, we buy our tickets, and we're off to the theatre, right? Wrong. Mother wants popcorn. She never sees a movie without popcorn.
So we go to the concession pavillion, where we find ourselves behind a particularly stupid father, and his particularly stupid young son. The concession clerk is clearly having a bad day, wandering around aimlessly in search of emtpy popcorn tubs and soft drink cups, looking surly.
The little boy keeps staring at the LARGE popcorn tub in front of him, repeating: "Daddy, is this a large popcorn?" He literally says this twelve times in ten seconds. Finally, the clerk barks "Yes, it's a large popcorn!" as he hands the father his change.
At this point, with the transaction completed, a previously unseen second young and stupid son materializes at his father's knee and starts screaming.
Apparently, daddy forgot to buy the little ghoul his Raisinettes. So the empty-eyed father buys the monster his candy. Then the "Idiocracy" trio disappears into the bowels of the cinema, and out of my life.
1:27. SHIT.
Finally, it's our turn at bat. Mother orders her popcorn and Diet Pepsi. I decide since I am so tired, a medium Dr. Pepper might help keep me awake.
The clerk starts wandering throughout the whole concession area, looking for a soda fountain with Dr. Pepper. Finally, he informs me that the cinema is OUT OF DR. PEPPER.
Great. Just finish the fucking transaction, so we can get to the fucking movie.
1:31. Motherfucker.
The only obstacle standing between us and our movie experience is a very elderly couple arguing with the usher about the location of their screening of "Sherlock Holmes".
The usher keeps pointing to the main auditorium, directly in front of them. They don't seem to understand that the main auditorium is playing the movie they paid to see. This is a complete mystery to them.
After about 30 seconds, I grab our tickets, tear them myself, and hand the stubs to the usher before walking past the bickering old retards, to see fucking "Up In The Air".
I did notice the usher giving me an odd look, but he said nothing to stop me. Fuck him.
We get inside the theatre as the Paramount logo fades from the screen. The theatre is packed. The only available seats are in the front row.
There should be no front row in any respectable cinema. It's some kind of sick fucking joke.
So I spend the next 2 hours staring directly up at a massive screen, trying not to fall asleep. Luckily, the rather large Ox sitting behind me was more than willing to help keep me awake by kicking the back of my seat every ten minutes.
How thoughtful of him.
It's January 1st, and I highly doubt I will have a more thoroughly miserable movie-going experience this year.
"Up In The Air" was really good. I was pleasantly surprised by Vera Farmiga's nude rear end twenty feet high and directly in front of my face about twenty minutes in. Danny McBride's beard distracted me.
Everyone in the auditorium was so tickled by the "Wichita" sequence in the middle of the film.
People always love it when their hometown is depicted in a movie. Well, almost always.
As I recall, nobody in the audience was terribly thrilled about the depiction of Wichita in "The Ice Harvest".
I love that movie.
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