I've been to a handful of movies on opening night, 12:01am early Friday morning to be exact. I somewhat understand the idea of seeing something as soon as one legally can. I understand it more if alcohol is involved. If you're turning the theater into a bar, it makes perfect sense. At least it did for the "Snakes on a Plane" outing. Anyways, midnight openings are like most things that end at 3am, you end up waking up full of regret, usually with Taco Bell trying to seep out of your body.
Chapter three, which was released sixth, of the "Star Wars" trilogy part two (because the first three, parts four through six, were released together and parts one though three, released fourth through six, were released together) is the only sci-fi film I've attended on opening night. (While most North Americans between fifteen and forty know the above "Star Wars" films, try to explain the sequence to someone unfamiliar with Lucas' cash crop. It makes little to no sense.) The crowd was prepared for the worst. They also planned to be there for the long haul. I went on a whim with my newspaper editor. He decided to purchase tickets to the midnight showing around ten, allowing us an hour to keep working, a half hour for transport and about fifteen minutes to find seats. We were not good planners. People had been camped out since six in the morning. We were screwed. Our tickets to the midnight show would be honored for the three AM show, but since that show looked full, we would be seated for the six AM screening. Thanks to God or god or the Force or the force, I saw an old friend in line for the midnight screening. We sat middle, middle. We split a six pack. We had a good time. The film didn't disappoint and I was in bed by four in the morning. Not a shabby experience.
"Snakes on a Plane". We saw the film because it is called "Snakes on a Plane". Come on! Yes, this existed! And not all that long ago. The theater was packed with potheads, drunks and teenagers. It's the closest I've come to seeing "Rocky Horror" at midnight. Random paraphernalia was hurled at the screen. The aisle I was in was littered with empty bottles of forties. The theater passed out mock in case of emergency instructions. These cardboard sheets flew at the screen with grace. The film was awful. It was a wonderful time. The lines to the bathroom resembled that of an all-ages punk show at a coffee shop. The actual toilets resembled that of an all-ages punk show attended by a few thousand kids.
My most recent excursion to see a film before any of my friends did not go as well as the first two trips. I did not split a six pack and no one shouted catch phrases. Seeing "The Dark Knight" in downtown Chicago in the heat of summer was not as fun as it sounds.
The second installment of the Christopher Nolan "Batman" series was shot mostly in Chicago. It stared an Oscar-nominated actor who had recently passed away. It's Batman, for Christ sake. People wanted to see this film. Badly. All midnight and three AM shows were sold out weeks in advance. My girlfriend had the foresight to seek out tickets weeks in advance. Therefore, we had guaranteed seats. Hooray! Batman! Before everyone else! The film could not be ruined!
The bus was late. By a lot. We did not arrive at the theater at eleven at night. We arrived at eleven forty five. A friend we were meeting had arrived at eleven. He saved seats for us until the ushers told him to stop. We were not able to sit with him. My girlfriend's set of friends also saved seats for us. By the time we arrived they were only holding one. I was on my own. I spotted a seat middle, middle. I had a seat.
Sitting middle, middle at a midnight show is a double edged sword. You're sitting around superfans. They're going to be quiet and absorb each line of dialogue like a trained puppy, adoring each zinger. They're also going to moan at each blow against their hero, salivate at every explosion and cum in their pants at key points in the film. These pop culture obsessed arrogant know-it-all assholes make films awful. The problem is that I must include myself in this category. I'm not as bad as these kids, I don't make any noise during the flick, but I will inform you after the film that it's odd that Heath Ledger made out with Jake Gyllenhaal but not Maggie Gyllenhaal.
To my left sat three white dudes in the early twenties, ripping on each preview, laughing at awful quips about how Shia LeBoeuf does suck and that they are very intelligent, laughed at a few moments in the film, yet gasped at a few action scenes and even clapped, discussed the upcoming "Terminator" film staring Christian Bale before the preview screened and once it did they cheered. To my right sat a female around the age of twenty four that seemingly has never seen a film, gasped at each appearance of the Joker, laughed loudly at each comedic preview, clapped a few times and was the only voice in the theater for the majority of the film. She was never annoying per se, just extremely sad. I wanted to find out if she's ever had a friend, or more specifically, a friend that let her talk about her ideas, feelings, observations on life. The only possible explanation for thinking that Batman might die in the first 10 minutes of a film about Batman would be a Mormon upbringing and this is her first foray into the outside world, but I doubt that's the case because she told me she had been there three hours before the film started.
Why didn't the fan boys sit next to the loud girl? They could've produced the next generation of "Batman" fans.
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