Just Friends (24Jan06)
This week, after dinner was ready, I made a point of turning off and unplugging the crockpot. I also noted the fact to Paul (who was totally oblivious to last week's Frying Pan Fiasco) while we were on our way to The Cheap Theater. I was pretty much feeling like an idiot (and a paranoid one at that), but then Paul admitted that, when we were in Europe a couple of weeks ago, he was convinced that our house was going to get broken into. Then I felt better.
On our way through the parking log, I made a point of once again checking out the latest developments at the new pizza buffet. "Oooh! Look! The Coke machine is in!" I pointed out, perhaps a bit more excitedly than I should have been. I also may have mentioned wanting to eat there on opening night, which may have made it appear as though I'd completely lost my mind (which Paul may have pointed out).
"I live in Ohio. It's January. What else do I have to be excited about? Throw me a frickin' bone here," I grumbled.
Once again this week, the lobby was eerily empty, save for a few rather creepy-looking old people (these particular old people being creepy-looking, as opposed to old people in general, whom I tend to like). Granted, it was still early -- we were even a little bit ahead of schedule, and our movie was one of the first evening shows. But still...it was empty. Perhaps the attempt to class up the place with the suits backfired on them -- or maybe there just weren't many good movies playing this week (*cough*aeonflux*cough*).
It was so dead, in fact, that the ticket-ripper had placed herself in some sort of trance. She was blankly staring off into nowhere when we walked up, and she didn't even notice we were approaching until we were right in front of her. Then she snapped to attention in a sudden -- and very obvious -- jolt.
She directed us to our theater -- then, I'm guessing, returned to her trance.
The theater was empty except for a pair of women who were talking way louder than was necessary for speaking to a person seated two inches away. I couldn't help but overhear parts of their conversation, which I occasionally slipped into my conversation with Paul, who became seriously confused and annoyed.
(And I'm starting to think that perhaps I need to toss out the new coffee I just bought. Do you think it's making me especially excitable? I'm starting to think so. Then again, I'm kinda enjoying it. I think I'll keep the coffee.)
I was intrigued to find that Just Friends brought in a well-rounded audience. The theater filled up with people of all shapes and sizes and ages. It was Guys' Night. It was Girls' Night. It was Date Night.
Technically, you can probably classify Just Friends as a Chick Flick -- but it's cleverly portrayed through the eyes of a guy -- and it was brilliantly marketed as an outrageous, almost American-Pie-like kind of comedy. Thus, the studio's marketing department was able to trick guys into willingly seeing a Chick Flick. Pure marketing genius, if you ask me.
As the crowd gathered, the noise levels in the theater grew exponentially. Apparently, the Loud Talkers who had been there when we arrived made everyone else in the theater feel like they had to talk THAT MUCH LOUDER to be heard throughout the theater, over top of the Loud-Talking women.
Meanwhile, Paul and I just sat quietly in our back row seats, once again brainlessly answering the three-month-old trivia questions about "new" movies that have long since passed through The Cheap Theater and have come out on DVD. They're probably making their Network TV Premiere next month.
Once the movie started, the Talkers turned into Laughers -- but, for once, the movie was actually that funny. They have every reason to laugh constantly (and heartily) through the whole movie. It wasn't just laugh-out-loud funny. It was bent-over-almost-falling-out-of-my-not-so-padded-chair funny. It may have been a Chick Flick, but even the guys in the theater (the ones who had to sit with a seat between them -- so no one would think they were there together, if you know what I mean) left happy.
For more on the movie, be sure to check NightsAndWeekends.com for my upcoming review.
On our way through the parking log, I made a point of once again checking out the latest developments at the new pizza buffet. "Oooh! Look! The Coke machine is in!" I pointed out, perhaps a bit more excitedly than I should have been. I also may have mentioned wanting to eat there on opening night, which may have made it appear as though I'd completely lost my mind (which Paul may have pointed out).
"I live in Ohio. It's January. What else do I have to be excited about? Throw me a frickin' bone here," I grumbled.
Once again this week, the lobby was eerily empty, save for a few rather creepy-looking old people (these particular old people being creepy-looking, as opposed to old people in general, whom I tend to like). Granted, it was still early -- we were even a little bit ahead of schedule, and our movie was one of the first evening shows. But still...it was empty. Perhaps the attempt to class up the place with the suits backfired on them -- or maybe there just weren't many good movies playing this week (*cough*aeonflux*cough*).
It was so dead, in fact, that the ticket-ripper had placed herself in some sort of trance. She was blankly staring off into nowhere when we walked up, and she didn't even notice we were approaching until we were right in front of her. Then she snapped to attention in a sudden -- and very obvious -- jolt.
She directed us to our theater -- then, I'm guessing, returned to her trance.
The theater was empty except for a pair of women who were talking way louder than was necessary for speaking to a person seated two inches away. I couldn't help but overhear parts of their conversation, which I occasionally slipped into my conversation with Paul, who became seriously confused and annoyed.
(And I'm starting to think that perhaps I need to toss out the new coffee I just bought. Do you think it's making me especially excitable? I'm starting to think so. Then again, I'm kinda enjoying it. I think I'll keep the coffee.)
I was intrigued to find that Just Friends brought in a well-rounded audience. The theater filled up with people of all shapes and sizes and ages. It was Guys' Night. It was Girls' Night. It was Date Night.
Technically, you can probably classify Just Friends as a Chick Flick -- but it's cleverly portrayed through the eyes of a guy -- and it was brilliantly marketed as an outrageous, almost American-Pie-like kind of comedy. Thus, the studio's marketing department was able to trick guys into willingly seeing a Chick Flick. Pure marketing genius, if you ask me.
As the crowd gathered, the noise levels in the theater grew exponentially. Apparently, the Loud Talkers who had been there when we arrived made everyone else in the theater feel like they had to talk THAT MUCH LOUDER to be heard throughout the theater, over top of the Loud-Talking women.
Meanwhile, Paul and I just sat quietly in our back row seats, once again brainlessly answering the three-month-old trivia questions about "new" movies that have long since passed through The Cheap Theater and have come out on DVD. They're probably making their Network TV Premiere next month.
Once the movie started, the Talkers turned into Laughers -- but, for once, the movie was actually that funny. They have every reason to laugh constantly (and heartily) through the whole movie. It wasn't just laugh-out-loud funny. It was bent-over-almost-falling-out-of-my-not-so-padded-chair funny. It may have been a Chick Flick, but even the guys in the theater (the ones who had to sit with a seat between them -- so no one would think they were there together, if you know what I mean) left happy.
For more on the movie, be sure to check NightsAndWeekends.com for my upcoming review.
posted by kdk at 2:02 PM
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