Monday, June 25, 2007

Thrills, Chills, and Steve Carell

New Reviews at Since Last Friday:
Broken English
Evan Almighty
Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer

Sorry for being such a slacker this week. Friday was a crazy day—one that spilled over into the weekend.

Last week was a screening-filled week—but, fortunately, it wasn’t filled with bad screenings. The Dreaded Monday Morning Screening was 1408, which I was actually looking forward to seeing—so I was totally cool with dragging my butt to a screening on Monday morning. It definitely made for a hectic day, but it was worth it.

John Cusack + Stephen King = woohoo! I was glad to see my boy John in a demanding role again. And since the story was written by Stephen King, I kept my hand conveniently near my eyes the whole time—just in case I needed to cover them, peering through the cracks between my fingers. Typically, when I watch scary movies at home, I keep a pillow (a.k.a. The Scary Movie Pillow) nearby—just in case I need to bury my face in it—but I would have looked really stupid hugging a pillow at a screening, don’t you think?

According to David’s review, I was “a puddle on the floor in the lobby afterwards.” I’m just gonna take that to be a good thing.

The second screening of the week was on Tuesday night—Evan Almighty. And despite the fact that everyone else was convinced that it would totally suck, I was keeping an open mind. I guess I was just feeling generous. Either that, or I just couldn’t handle another bad movie. Whatever the case, though, I was hopeful.

Before the screening, a group of us met up for dinner. Apparently, a table full of film critics is a little more than some waitresses can handle. And after waiting for an eternity for our waitress to return to take our order, we flagged down another waitress, who informed us that our waitress had left for the night. I mean, I totally understand, since Kevin was at the table—and, the minute she walked up, he admitted to being an ass—but we were really hungry, and we didn’t have a lot of time. And since I like neither (a) being hungry nor (b) being late, I wasn’t exactly in a cheery mood. But we eventually got our food—and Neil graciously saved us all seats—so everything turned out okay.

The coolest part of the evening, however, was that I ate more than Kevin “The Carburetor” Carr, Columbus’s Competitive Eating Champ. Sure, Kevin claims that he’d gone out that morning to do some hotdog training—and that he’d consumed a dozen hotdogs for a late breakfast. And I, on the other hand, had only had a PopTart for lunch. But counting just that one meal, I ate more than Kevin did. I was able to eat a whole hamburger and half of a basket of tater tots—and I was even tempted to dig into Kevin’s basket of fries. And for that, I’m totally proud of myself. Thank you very much.

As for the movie, everyone but Kevin agreed that it wasn’t actually that bad. The crowd around us definitely seemed to enjoy it. The person behind me regularly stomped his/her feet out of, I assume, delight—and some random guy at the side of the theater kept letting out random “HA!”s at the most bizarre times. So I’m taking that to be a good thing. And although I’ve gotten my fill of Steve-Carell-falling-off-stuff scenes for a while, it was actually a cute movie. I’d even let my mom see it—so it can’t be that bad (then again, my mother’s taste in movies is a completely different topic for a completely different day).

After a night off on Wednesday, we were back to the theater on Thursday for Ratatouille. We’ve already been reminded approximately 14 times that we’re not allowed to post reviews of the movie until this Friday, so I’ll just say that the kid behind me was lucky to make it out in one piece, after spending the entire movie kicking the back of my seat.

Finally, Friday morning was the Evening screening. I had time to finish maybe half of my Ratatouille review before heading out to the theater. I never enjoy watching heavy dramas on Friday morning (this one being about a woman on her deathbed, looking back on her one greatest regret), but, fortunately, this weekend was Comfest. So after the screening, John and Clay and I recovered by embarking on a Friday afternoon adventure. For most people, there might be something strange about a young-ish woman, such as myself, heading out on a Friday afternoon to a hippie festival with two old guys who are pretending not to be looking for topless women (unfortunately for them, I was the only one who spotted the topless girl—10 points for me!). But that’s just another Friday afternoon for me. And I have absolutely no problem with that. In fact, I thoroughly enjoy it. As Clay and I hunted for any junk food we could find, John searched for shawarma meat that was served in chunks instead of shaved from a giant cone of meat. (Sadly, he never did find it.) Then we sat and ate as some balding 40-something on the stage prattled on about whether or not he should waste the weed to make some brownies for his conservative, tight-assed boss. And a good time was had by all.

This week should make for another busy week, since it’s the last week before I head out on vacation. And with the holiday approaching, we’ve got screenings for Die Hard (the PG-13 rating of which Bill is still totally distraught about), License to Wed, and Transformers.

Actually, I’m supposed to be at a screening of Sicko as I write this. But, for one thing, my husband got a new job (woohoo!), and he has today off before starting his new job tomorrow—so I figured I’d stay home and hang out with him a bit. And, also, Michael Moore makes me angry. That’s not to say that he doesn’t make some interesting points. He does. But while Al Gore, for instance, tends to make his points by calmly and rationally stating the facts, Moore makes his points by bullying people and making ridiculous assumptions. Personally, he lost his credibility when, in Bowling for Columbine, he walked into random homes in Toronto to prove that Canada is a trusting and non-violent country. I found this to be totally silly because (a) I know plenty of people in the States who don’t own a gun and who leave their doors unlocked when they’re home during the day, and (b) I know enough about Toronto to understand that if he’d tried to do that in certain neighborhoods, we never would have been subjected to another Michael Moore film—because the occupants would have shot him on the spot.

As another critic explained, he wasn’t going to the screening because, politics aside, he was concerned that after five minutes, he’d want to punch Michael Moore in the face.


But the rest of the week should be interesting, to say the least. And I’ll be sure to fill you in on Friday.

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