You are wise beyond your years, grasshopper. My problem is that my little slice of Southern heaven has no art houses. I generally got to a movie when I am absolutely convinced that the traffic will be low; i.e, at the end of it’s run or a midweek matinee. Usually I end up waiting for DVD. I’m saving up for that plasma screen…mmmmm.
Some of you guys are such snobby, snobby snobs. I come to the movies to be entertained. If the movie is awful, as most of them playing in my neighborhood are, you bet I play Mystery Science Theater to it. I don’t care who hears me. They must enjoy my ranting too, because they laugh at me more than the movie itself.
I heartily endorse this in principle, but I hesitate in practice when I consider myself in a courtroom…
Judge: So, the young Mr. Snaughtknoze threw popcorn a second time at your wife?
Me: Yes, your honor.
Judge: Subsequently, you put your steel-toed Doctor Martin boot some eighteen inches up Mr. Snaughtknoze’s rectum, per your promise to do so, should he repeat throwing kernals of popcorn at your wife?
Me: That’s correct, your honor.*
I’m guessing I’d be the defendant on this little episode of Court TV.
I guess the best I can do is show the Theaters I mean business; specifically, by not giving them mine.
My money, and more importantly my time, are not unlimited. Having just become a father, the time I have to go to movies is considerably smaller than it ever has been.
If I paid $10 to go watch a movie and ended up sitting behind some merry little performer auteur such as yourself, you can be damn sure the quality of the movie would be least of your worries. Removing my size 11 Doc Marten from your lower abdomen would be.
Bottom line, sporto: Nobody paid the money to hear your comments but you. Cram it. You’re part of the problem, not the solution. No matter how many “people laugh more at you than the movie itself.” :rolleyes:
You are a rare breed indeed capacitor, if you can convince me that my money was well spent sitting in a movie theatre watching a bad movie and listening to some self appointed social arbiter hold forth to his gallery de legume.
Gosh that must have been you and your cohort that my friend The Insane 0ne! and I sat in front of, a couple of years ago at the remastered The Return of the Jedi screening.
Don’t you remember? You came in after the credits and sat in the handicapped seats right behind TI0! and I, who were sitting in the very last row for non-lamers. And then you proceeded to chat and heckle every character and satirize the dialogue.
And then TI0! told you to STFU. He was the big one, remember? The one that was 6-foot-6 and 360 pounds? At first he reprimanded you politely, and then not so nicely, and then finally quite adamantly. Yet in response, all you did was continue your commentary, now incorporating some rather rude comments regarding TI0!'s size whenever the name Jabba the Hut was mentioned.
And remember, right after you spit Mountain Dew in our hair and started laughing and calling Luke Skywalker a crybaby during the “Luke, I’m your father” scene, that’s when TI0! got up and walked down the row to the aisle at the far end of the theater. Or maybe you were to busy laughing and throwing half-chewed gummi worms at the girls with the big hair 10 rows down to notice where TI0 went.
But I’m sure you remember the last thing you noticed, very shortly thereafter: your heads knocking together forcefully, each propelled by 0ne very large hand.
You sure were quiet after that. And for that we were grateful. TI0! and I expressed our gratitude by informing the ushers on the way out that there were two teenagers “sleeping” in the handicapped seats in the back of the theater.
No? That wasn’t you. Well, then be careful, because one day, it just might be.
Whups… sorry, that was The Empire Strikes Back.
(No wonder you don’t remember.)
How about this wonderful wrinkle: When I went to see Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon a few years back, there was a teenage girl a couple of rows behind me who had her boyfriend read her the subtitles she was apparently too lazy to read her own damn self. Now that is fucking irritating, let me tell you.
If I hear you, I will proceed quickly to the digging out of your eyeballs with a stale Red Vine.
OK try this. Start screaming “My eye my eye” and go flailing about in his direction, alternately dope slapping the toadsucking asswipe and rubbing your eye just enough to redden it. Let the cops take some pictures, garner a few sympathetic testimonials from bystanders, and sue the bastard for whatever you can get.
How often does this happen?
The fallacy is, of course, that if you stop going to the theaters, the theater will just be trying to figure out how to keep the audience they already have, not worrying about the crowd that 1) doesn’t go the theater (i.e. watches the video) 2) is so small that they’re not worth jeopardizing the teen crowd to get back.
Good question Chairman Pow. I’d be willing to bet that for every thread so described by da Brat I could find 100 that don’t fit the profile. Hell, 500. I,000.
I’m pretty sure that is already happening. Two ticket holders trump one ticket holder every time. And I would go so far as to suggest that the movie makers are fueling the fire by shooting for the LCD. Netflix and a good home entertainment system. That’s the ticket.
I love movies! Truly, madly deeply! There is something about sitting in the dark, smelling the popcorn, seeing the people around you as focused as you are on 2 hours of fun. Videos just don’t do it for me.
So, I get really hacked off when someone does not show the right appreciation for the experience. My biggest pet peeve is when a group (usually teens, but sometimes adults) comes in and proceeds to talk to each other through the movie. If they want to talk, they need to get the video.
I give them a little time, let them talk during the beginning credits and if they continue into the movie, I tell them to “Shhhhh”, usually responded to by others with approval. If it continues (and it usually does) I go get the manager. Not an usher. I demand to see the manager. Usually at larger theatres if you ask the manager to quiet down a “group” they bring the attending security officer with them. It works. Sometimes they even leave. But they are usually quiet. I only say “Shhhhh” once and never get into an argument or exchange words with them. But I do not hesitate to go the manager. If they start up again. I go right back out for the manager again. Hey, if they keep talking I don’t get to enjoy the movie anyway.
Kids kicking the backseat, I just ask their parent to stop them…sometimes they don’t know they are doing it. If it doesn’t stop, I move. That doesn’t rise to “get the manager” for me.
Don’t tread on my movies… :mad:
