Burnt. Out.

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Time:
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day
Penelope
The Other Boleyn Girl
Semi-Pro
Be Kind, Rewind
In Bruges
Vantage Point

This is a really difficult time of year for film critics. For the last two months, we’ve been sitting through all kinds of mediocre movies. Every once in a while, we walk into the theater with a slight sense of hope (sometimes even eagerness), only to walk out two hours later feeling horribly disappointed. Then we walk out of the theater into the cold, gray Midwestern afternoon. Fortunately, though, there have been a few pleasant surprises (like Penelope) and a few movies that have lived up to our expectations (like In Bruges). Sometimes, we get to really, really hate a movie, which spices things up a bit. But, mostly, when we’re asked what we thought about a movie, we tend to shrug just a little bit and say, “Eh.” The movies have been about as dull as the weather. I can imagine that the film critic suicide rate must be pretty high this time of year.

This week has actually been a busy week for screenings. It started out on Monday morning again, with the American remake of Funny Games. But it wasn’t funny at all. Or at least the movie wasn’t funny—but my fellow critics’ reactions to it were. On one side of me, David groaned. On the other, Jason heckled. In front of me, Kevin threw up his hands in frustration. And, elsewhere in the theater, John giggled. David was so angry that he almost threw the remainders of his morning soda at the screen (and I’m looking forward to reading his review—since I believe he may have threatened the director with bodily harm).

While we were standing at the theater on Monday morning, waiting for the screening to begin, we got an email about a screening of Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day that had been scheduled for Tuesday morning. But as I was getting ready to leave on Tuesday morning, I got a call from David, telling me that he’d gotten a call that the screening had been postponed. The print hadn’t arrived at the theater yet, and they’d let us know when it showed up. I quickly called John, who had just gotten into his car.

Considering that I was scheduled to appear on It’s Movie Time this week—and the Tuesday morning screening of Miss Pettigrew was the only screening of this week’s movies that was early enough to make it onto this week’s show—I was pretty disappointed that the screening had been postponed. But, on the other hand, I was thrilled that they’d called to let us know. That’s never happened before. Usually, if the print doesn’t show up, one or two people get a call, and the rest of us end up driving out to the theater anyway. So, in the grand scheme of things, I really didn’t care about the whole print-not-showing-up thing. I was just relieved that I found out about it before I ended up going on a very long and pointless roadtrip.

After a series of phone calls and emails on Tuesday, we ended up having the screening rescheduled for both Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning. I chose to go for the Tuesday afternoon screening, even though it meant I’d have to drive home in rush-hour traffic like all those people who work in all those office buildings in the city. I didn’t really mind—I just wanted to get it over with. And besides, we already had a screening scheduled for Wednesday night—and if I can avoid having to go to two screenings in one day, you can bet I will.

On Wednesday morning, I spent the entire morning agonizing over this week’s It’s Movie Time reviews. You see, another one of the frustrating things about this “movie wasteland” part of the year is that, after a couple of months, you run out of things to say. You become numb. You can no longer come up with words for “eh.” So it took longer than usual. But it had to be done, so I hunkered down and put something together.

At night, we had two screenings to choose from: 10,000 B.C. or College Road Trip. Ever since I’d seen the first trailer for College Road Trip, I’d been dreading it just a little bit. And ever since I’d seen the first trailer for 10,000 B.C., I’d been morbidly curious. And though Kevin really kinda wanted me to see College Road Trip, since I was also doing Fat Guys at the Movies this week, and since he was seeing 10,000 B.C., I left the decision up to my husband. Since he goes to one movie a week—and he had Wednesday night free—I figured I’d like him choose. So when I asked if he wanted to see College Road Trip or 10,000 B.C., he responded with, “Well, I could see 10,000 B.C., or I could just stay home.” So 10,000 B.C. it was. And, to be honest, I was relieved.

Now that I’ve seen 10,000 B.C., though, I kinda wish I’d gone with College Road Trip. At least I knew what to expect. With 10,000 B.C., I was thinking that it could actually be good—despite the whole cavemen-speaking-English thing. But it was low on action and high on [unintentional] comedy. Sure, it was entertaining—but not necessarily in a good way. But at least the two infants in the front of the theater who spent the entire movie babbling loudly seemed to have enjoyed it. So there’s that.

After the screening on Wednesday night, I rushed home to try to get to bed early—because Thursday promised to be the longest day of my life. Let’s break it down minute-by-minute, shall we?

6:45: Alarm goes off. I stumble off to the shower.

7:45: Husband leaves for work. I try to squeeze in a few minutes of work while printing off It’s Movie Time stuff.

8:00: Leave for WCBE. Get stuck in traffic, due to accident on highway.

8:40: Arrive at station (10 minutes late). John, of course, is already there. Rehearse the show, only to find that we’re way under our time allotment for the week. Scramble to beef things up a bit.

9:00: Head into the studio. Try one take, which is much too short, followed by a second take that we forget to record. Manage to record the third take, which I’m not thrilled with, but I figure it’ll do. Begin producing show.

10:30: Realize that, in order to produce the full five-minute show, we’ll end up using 20 seconds of music. It’s acceptable and all, but John and I are pretty picky. So we decide to save what we’ve got and try one more take.

11:50: Take four actually turns out really well, and John and I produce the show, agreeing that we totally lucked out. As we’re leaving the station, we start talking about the 30-second N&W.com promo that Kevin wanted me to do for Fat Guys. John starts making up a great script, and we run back into the studio to record again.

12:20: Finally head out of the studio again—with a finished show and a saved N&W.com promo.

1:00: Get back to the office and eat lunch while checking email. Try to decide between taking a nap and getting coffee. Decide that there’s no time for a nap. Choose coffee.

2:15: Head to Tim Horton’s, where I order a medium iced coffee and sit down at the sunny table by the window to try to write up my review of 10,000 B.C. End up writing, “Holy crap, I’m burnt out. I can’t seem to write a coherent thought. This week, I hate movies, and I don’t feel like writing about them, but I have to anyway.” Put review aside and decide to work on something else instead. Do some editing. Flip through film festival guide.

3:30: Head back to the office to work on 10,000 B.C. review (for real this time). Actually get something written.

5:15: Make myself some dinner and sit down in front of the TV to watch last night’s episode of America’s Next Top Model. Get through the makeover part and the photoshoot and have to turn it off to get ready for screening.

6:30: Leave for The Bank Job screening. Meet up with the gang. Shake our heads while talking about the movies we’ve seen this week.

9:45: Get out of screening and head home for a few minutes to caffeinate.

10:30: Get the call that Kevin’s on his way to the Magical Studio in the Sky. Say good-night to husband and head out the door again.

10:45: Arrive at studio and try to set up for the show. Discover that Neil’s the one who knows where everything is. Neil is in Austin for SXSW, and he’s not answering his phone. Crawl around on the floor, trying to find cables and things.

11:59: Finally ready to start recording show. I’ve been drinking Diet Coke for about two hours straight, and I now feel a terrible urge to belch. Probably, that would be okay on Fat Guys at the Movies, but I refrain anyway. After all, I’m a girl, and my mom told me that girls don’t burp. I’m also fighting the urge to slip into a coma.

1-something: Finally finish recording the show. Have been up for what feels like three days. No longer coherent. Not entirely sure of what I said on the show. Am hoping that Kevin will just edit me out. Play back part of the show on chipmunk speed. Start clearing up the studio. Or at least Kevin does. I mostly just stare blankly into nowhere.

2:30: Head home from the studio. By the time I get there, I’m shaking like a strung-out junkie. Am exhausted and over-caffeinated but strangely wide awake.

3:00ish: Climb into bed, consider sleeping through Friday.

Clearly, after all this movie-wasteland burnout, I’m desperately in need of a film festival. Fortunately, the Cleveland Film Festival is under way (Clay’s there right now, in fact). I’ve already printed out copies of the schedule, which I’ve been agonizing over for weeks. The choices are phenomenal this year—which is a good thing and a bad thing. On one hand, it means that I should be seeing all kinds of great movies next week. On the other hand, during some time slots, there are as many as three or four great movies playing at the same time—and, since I still haven’t figured out how to be in more than one place at a time, I’m going to have to make some tough decisions.

Since I’m on my own on Thursday, I’m thinking I’ll just fill up my schedule. I figure I’ll make it two five of the six possible movies, grabbing some grub from the food court whenever I have a break between shows. On Friday, John shows up, which means there will be martinis. And on Saturday, my husband shows up—and we’ve already figured out our schedule for Saturday and Sunday.

Though I’m still not entirely sure which movies I’ll be seeing next week, I know that I’ll be just what the doctor ordered: a few days away from the usual grind, a hotel with a maid and free waffles for breakfast, a martini or two, some movie-loving friends, and a whole bunch of great independent films. I can’t wait!

2 Weeks 1 Entry

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Time:
I’m Not There
Hitman
August Rush
Enchanted
The Mist
No Country for Old Men

It appears as though I forgot that last Friday was actually a Friday. I’m going to blame it on the turkey. But, really, there wasn’t a heck of a lot to write about last week. It was gloriously quiet—except for Monday, when I had to be everywhere at once.

Mondays, as you probably already know, from my regular bitching and moaning, are not convenient days for screenings. I send out a newsletter to my contributors every Monday morning, so that takes some time—and then there’s all kinds of stuff that I need to catch up on from the weekend. I try not to work over the weekend (or at least not at my desk), so there’s usually plenty of email that needs my attention. Also, I will have inevitably watched a couple of DVDs and maybe finished a book or played a game over the weekend—so there’s stuff to review. If I have to take off and head to a screening, that just puts me that much farther behind.

On the Monday before Thanksgiving, however, I had the choice. I could (a) go to a screening and get it over with or (b) wait until Tuesday night. As much as I treasure those Monday mornings at the office, I ended up choosing option (a)—because going with (b) would mean being out for some reason or another Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Also, my husband needed to head into the office—and since, with his broken arm, he’s still not allowed to drive for a few weeks, I had to bring him. Of course, that meant that I had a whole hour (if even that) to work in the morning before driving him out to the office. He had a meeting at 10, so I had plenty of time before the screening. I stopped at Tim Horton’s on the way to the screening to pick up a bagel, and I was still early—so I took the time to start drafting a book review. I also took some time to listen to the projectionist and the security guards chatting about the best ways to pirate movies.

The screening was for Hitman, which was totally ridiculous—though, fortunately, short. It meant that I had time to get home and inhale some form of lunch before my appointment at the doctor’s office at 2. I was told to block out an hour for the appointment—in which I was taking The Great Asthma Test (which, as it turns out, could possibly be the hardest test I have ever taken)—but it ended up taking until 4. This was bad, since I was supposed to be at my knitting group at 4. So I ran back to the house, picked up my knitting, and hit the road. I made it to knitting a half hour or so late, and, of course, it was the one week when my favorite regular kid showed up on time. Of course. But we had a fabulous time knitting until 6, when I jumped in the car, pulled out the dinner I’d packed for myself (a Slim-Fast bar) and headed to the theater for a 7:00 screening of Enchanted. And then, after all that, I got to go home. (Once there, I discovered that my husband, who had gotten a ride home from work with a coworker, had forgotten his keys. He had also forgotten his cell phone that day, which made things pretty complicated. Fortunately, though, he did manage to get inside—and he didn’t have to sit on the front steps for three hours.)

So anyway…that was it for screenings last week. My favorite day of the whole week was Wednesday, when, apparently, all the agencies decided to take the day off. I didn’t get a single press release all day—and it was glorious. I got stuff done. And then, just like that, the week was pretty much over. David and I celebrated by taking our spouses out for dinner and Spamalot.

But don’t you worry. I had plenty to keep me busy over the weekend—since we’ve been getting the awards screeners by the boatload. So I got to rewatch Hairspray, and I managed to stay awake through Into the Wild.

This week was actually more of the same. If you check IMDb, you’ll notice that pretty much nothing opens this weekend—other than Awake, which, for some strange reason, the press weren’t allowed to see. That meant that we only had one screening on the schedule for this week—on Tuesday morning. But it gave us enough fun for the whole freakin’ week.

It all started innocently enough, with some coffee and scones and some chatter about award screeners. We made our way into the theater and took our seats. Then, not long into the film, some guy wandered down the aisle, carrying what appeared to be a bunch of electrical cords. Huh, I thought to myself. And I forgot about the movie for a while as I watched the little man with curiosity as he walked to the front of the theater and through the front exit (which, it turns out, is actually just a curtain). And that’s when the pounding began. And possibly some drilling. And it lasted through the rest of the movie.

So, if you ask me, I’m pretty sure that Sleuth stars Michael Caine, Jude Law, and a noisy little man with a hammer.

Just because there was just one screening this week, it doesn’t mean that I was off the hook. I was scheduled to appear on Fat Guys at the Movies this week, and, due to the lack of any new releases to talk about, we decided to talk about screeners. That meant I had to catch Margot at the Wedding on Monday night. And on Tuesday night, while my husband was away on business, I settled in for a little Tuesday Night Porno in the form of Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution. As it turned out, that whole Lust, Caution thing was just a little guest-host joke that Kevin and Neil played on me (called: Let’s Make the Guest Host Watch Boring Chinese Porn), since they said we’d be discussing it—but then they decided that they weren’t actually going to watch it.

So anyway, last night, we were scheduled to start recording at 9. Or at least Neil and I intended to start at 9. Kevin showed up…whenever. And then he’d forgotten the extra mic, so he had to go back and get it—but only after surfing the ‘net with Richard the Producer for obscene videos of 2 Girls and 1 Something-or-other. Neil and I refused to join in, but we did see some chick online who threw up after watching whatever it was they were watching. So it’s probably best that Neil and I didn’t join in, since I totally hate throwing up.

Finally, after Kevin and Richard’s weekly porn search—during which Neil and I made it part of the way through another viewing of Juno—we got started. That was probably about 11. The show, however, was a total blast. I’m not entirely sure what we talked about for all that time, but I do know that I won’t be sending my mother over to listen to the online version. She’s already concerned enough about me. No need to put myself on the Naughty list so close to Christmas.

Now, as another week comes to a close, we’re once again facing a strangely quiet week. Last year at this time, we had seven screenings scheduled (or at least seven that we could technically make it to, without being two places at once), plus a Saturday morning. This year, we have five plus a Saturday, two of which we already have screeners for. Last year, the second week of December was our nine-screening week. This year, we have six. Don’t get me wrong—six is plenty. It just seems strange, after the insanity of last year. Perhaps it’s just because we’re getting screeners of so much stuff. Or maybe it’s just because nothing’s opening in December. Or maybe it’s because everything’s scheduled for the week before Christmas—11 screenings fit into three time slots. In other words, unless one of us figures out how to travel in time (or unless someone starts scheduling morning screenings), we’re all pretty much screwed. For instance, if I want to see Walk Hard, I’ll have to choose to skip one of the following: Charlie Wilson’s War, National Treasure, or Sweeney Todd. Looks like I’ll be missing Walk Hard…

Pay Off

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Martian Child
Reservation Road

For weeks, the COFCA regulars have been buzzing about American Gangster. Despite the whole A Good Year mess last year (which, from this time forward, I shall stop mentioning when talking about Russell Crowe and Ridley Scott), we were all pretty psyched to see the two of them together—with the added Denzel Washington bonus. Colin saw it before the rest of us, and he was thrilled, which only added to our general excitement. And finally, on Tuesday night, it was time for the screening.

The big dilemma of the week was the fact that the only screening of American Gangster was playing at the same time as the only screening of Bee Movie, which meant we had to choose between the two. For me, it wasn’t much of a decision—but it was disappointing that, in a week as slow as this one, we couldn’t actually see both. But sometimes, them’s the breaks.

When my husband and I arrived at the theater, 40 minutes or so before the screening, there was already a line wrapped around the building. At times like these, I’m so very glad that I’m press. Because, in case I haven’t mentioned before, our unofficial motto is: We Don’t Wait in Lines. We hung out in the lobby for a few minutes before Neil came down the stairs and whisked us away to…the Dreaded Balcony.

Despite the insanity and frustration that usually results from a few hours in The Balcony, we keep going back. We can’t help it. The seats are cushy and leather, and the lower seats are just too close to the screen. So the balcony it was. A gigantic crowd of us showed up for the screening, so we pretty much took up an entire row, which helped to ensure that, for the most part, the most obnoxious people in the balcony this time were the critics. Granted, there were a few people who were a little too excited to be there—and whose excitement spilled out into the beginning of the movie—but they were actually relatively well-behaved this time around. Sure, they got a little loud during the usual giveaway, shouting out demands for equal swag rights for the balcony. But that’s a given.

I must say, it’s nice to be sitting in those comfy balcony seats when the movie is more than two and a half hours long. But, fortunately, American Gangster didn’t feel that long. And even though I always worry a bit when I’m a little too excited to see a movie—for fear that it will end up being a huge disappointment, as so many others have—this time, I wasn’t disappointed. In fact, it was one of those movies that, the more I thought about it afterwards, the more I liked it.

It was definitely a late night, though. Thanks to the outrageous number of trailers, the 7:30 movie didn’t actually get started until about 7:50. So we didn’t get to the car until almost 10:30. Then we had to wait in line for another 20 minutes or so to get out of the parking garage. Another few minutes, and we would have been over our four-hour parking validation limit. Ah, the joys of hanging out in the city.

Since Wednesday was Halloween, we didn’t have an evening screening—and this week was strangely void of daytime screenings. So we didn’t have another screening until Thursday night.

Thursday was one of those crazy days. I got to work at the usual 8:30—at which time my computer decided it didn’t feel like waking up yet. I spent an hour trying to get it to do something, and then I gave up and restarted it. So it was after 9:30 by the time I finally got to work on the weekly newsletter. Fortunately, I didn’t have too many extras to add, so I managed to get it sent out by 11 or so. After that, I had to rush to get things done. I needed to work on my American Gangster review—which, for some reason, was a really hard one to write. But I needed to work on it—because I needed to have a few thoughts fresh in my mind at night, when I was scheduled to make my debut on Fat Guys at the Movies. I also needed to recall my thoughts on Martian Child. And, in general, I needed to psych myself up a bit.

You see, Fat Guys is completely different from the radio I’m used to. When I get to sit in on It’s Movie Time, we only have five minutes—so everything is carefully planned out. There isn’t a lot of time for spontaneity, so we get our reviews written up ahead of time—and then we play around with a few interjections and things later. I get 130 words per movie, and that’s it. Fat Guys, on the other hand, is a much longer show. There aren’t any scripts, so everything is totally spontaneous and off-the-cuff. And, as it turns out, spontaneity totally freaks me out. This is why I’m a writer. I like to be able to edit and delete and cut and paste.

So anyway, I managed to sneak in a quick non-working lunch break—during which I ran out to Target to pick up some post-Halloween half-price goodies. Sadly, there was very little Halloween candy left, which made me very angry. I did get some candy corn, though—one bag for home, one bag for the evening’s recording session. And some M&Ms. And a small plastic gargoyle, which I hope to put in the yard somewhere, to ward off evil spirits…and evil neighbor children. I was tempted to buy myself a crazy Halloween wig while I was at it, too—but I decided against it. Then I rushed back to finish up a few last-minute things.

At about 5:20, I quickly rushed off to make dinner, which I inhaled in about 5 minutes. I got ready to head out, and I said good-bye to my husband, who was coming home just as I was leaving for the August Rush screening at 6. I drove over to the theater and saved a bunch of seats for the rest of the gang.

Before the movie, we had plenty of time to chat. David filled us in on how much he hated Bee Movie, and we spent a lot of time discussing what the looming Hollywood strikes could mean for us. With all the studios rushing to get any old movie green-lit and into production before everyone goes on strike, who knows what could be coming. David mentioned that, during an earlier strike, it meant that quirky, more imaginative movies were green-lit, and it was actually a good thing. But we’re a little worried that it means we’ll be subjected to a giant pile of crap—and, perhaps, a pretty slow summer.

Since August Rush isn’t coming out for a couple of weeks yet, I can’t say much about it right now. So…let’s move right along.

After the screening, I headed out to the great Fat Guys studio, where we got everything ready for the show. Kevin hadn’t gone to the screening, so we had to wait for him to show up. Neil didn’t seem to have much hope of seeing him for the next hour or so—since, he says, Kevin often says he’s heading right over, and then he ends up stopping by the gym on the way over. After all, Kevin is quite concerned about keeping his girlish figure. But, surprisingly, he bypassed the gym and headed right over.

The Fat Guys have quite an impressive set-up—lots of microphones and cables and headsets and things, and a nice big screen that reminded us of the time. And, just for the record, there was no pizza or beer—which you might expect to find in a studio where you record a show called “Fat Guys at the Movies.” It was all a little bit overwhelming, to tell you the truth. But, somehow, I made it through. It took a while for me to get up to speed—since, well, the guys have had 36 shows to figure out how all this stuff works, and I had about 36 minutes. Believe me—they make it look easy. By the end, though, I was getting the hang of it—and, despite my whole fear-of-spontaneity thing, and the occasional presence of noxious fumes, I had a great time. The guys told me I’m actually allowed to come back—and I’m looking forward to it.

After we finished recording the show and playing back some of the funnier parts (particular the parts when Kevin burps and when he confuses the rest of us by talking about something called a “shatchel”), we wrapped up a few things, and I hit the road—and I finally made it home by about 1:30. If I do the math in my somewhat cloudy brain, that adds up to a 17-hour day. And that, my friends, is one long day.

It looks like things are starting to pick up a bit toward the end of next week. I suppose it could be that pre-Thanksgiving rush, hurrying to cram in the screenings before we have a couple of days off (after which things get really crazy). We’ve only got two evening screenings again this week, but the daytime screenings are starting to pop up on the schedule again—and we’ll end the week with screenings on Thursday morning, Thursday night, and Friday morning. It’ll be a good pre-December warm-up.

And So It Begins

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Ocean’s Thirteen
Mr. Brooks

After last week’s slow screening week, things started picking up a little bit this week. The craziness began right away, on Monday morning, with a totally-last-minute screening of Ocean’s Thirteen. As it was Monday morning—which I tend to spend absolutely freaking out—I was running a little behind, but I did make it. When I arrived at the theater, I found the rest of the gang hanging out in shiny café booths that had been set up in the theater’s lobby—just for the theater’s run of Waitress. I slid into a booth during a little discussion about this week’s episode (#12) of Fat Guys at the Movies, which delves deeply into Neil and Kevin’s ongoing feud with some podcasting guys from Chicago. As it turns out, I got a plug on the show, too, in reference to last week’s Film Critic Discussion Topic about the electronic gadget introduced by Regal Cinemas. At one point in the show, they also announce that, since I’m a girl and all, they need to get me on their show. Either me…or a naked stripper. Either one.

Fortunately, however, I am one of the only people mentioned in this particular episode who was not proclaimed a “douche bag,” so I’m thrilled. And relieved. Thanks, guys! Oh, and good luck to Kevin Carr, our resident competitive eater, who’s in another hot dog eating contest this weekend.

So anyway…the new booths at the theater added an increased amount of insanity to the usual pre-screening chatter. Instead of standing around, waiting impatiently for the screening to begin, we grabbed our assorted cookies and muffins and cups of coffee and settled right in. It was like Cheers. It was so much fun, in fact, that we begged the theater manager to keep the booths. But alas, the fire marshal apparently wouldn’t be as thrilled as we were—so the booths will be leaving the theater along with Waitress. We’ll just have to enjoy it while we can.

Despite the fact that Ocean’s Twelve made me violently angry with that ridiculous Julia Roberts twist, I actually found myself totally digging Ocean’s Thirteen. In fact, I no longer cared that I had to see it on a Monday morning (had it sucked, however, I would have been totally pissed—I get that way on Mondays). In fact, I have officially declared Ocean’s Thirteen the best of this summer’s Big Threes. I even told my husband that I’d be willing to pay real money so he can see it, too. And that’s saying a lot.

On Wednesday morning, we once again got to hang out in the booths, waiting to see September Dawn. I almost skipped it, since I was a little behind schedule for the week. But, somehow, I ended up talking myself into going. Perhaps because it features Jon Voight with a beard. Or maybe because it’s about a massacre—and I just haven’t seen enough massacres lately. But, two hours later, I was totally kicking myself for leaving the office. As we stood outside after the screening, Kevin, Neil, and I kept trying to remind ourselves that the movie is based on a really tragic true story—and that lots of people really died—but that didn’t stop us from laughing about the movie anyway. It’s a lot like Home of the Brave—a movie that takes on a serious topic but does it so terribly that it ends up being inappropriately funny. During the screening, there were snorts coming from various corners of the theater. It was that silly.

While most people were seeing Surf’s Up on Wednesday night, I was watching my husband play hockey—so we caught the screening on Thursday night instead. It was a rush to make it, though, since I’d spent the afternoon downtown with John and Clay, enjoying the annual Arts Festival and eating food I shouldn’t eat. We ate up on John’s balcony, overlooking the city—and while John ate food that was fitting for his palate (his home-cooked chicken and pesto), Clay and I stuffed ourselves with all the junk we could. Because Clay and I like food. Bad food. (Clay, especially, likes bad food—I, however, draw the line at movie theater hot dogs.) Like pulled pork sandwiches and fried pickles and pecan chocolate mousse pie. And then we topped it off with John’s champagne. Needless to say, my stomach was seriously pissed off later that afternoon.

Anyway…I didn’t get a pass for the Thursday screening—and I never did get a response to the email I sent to the rep—so we had to find a way to get into the theater. Since there are all kinds of different people who work the counter at the theater, it’s not like they know any of us—which is why we’re supposed to have passes to get in. I’m not going to tell you exactly how I managed to walk right in, but I will say that my husband was thoroughly impressed. And amused. But I’m smooth like that. Either that, or they’ll just let anyone in. That could be the case, too. It probably has nothing to do with me or my inherent smoothness.

As we took our seats and compared notes on the week’s screenings, I was again struck by how varied the tastes of the local critics are. It’s a good thing we’re all so easy-going (or perhaps we’re just resilient), or we’d all hate each other. In fact, one of the critics who was there on Thursday didn’t agree with me on a single movie we’d seen all week. But it happens. We make our arguments, we occasionally mock each other, and then we move on.

So…Surf’s Up is, of course, a kids’ movie. Which means that there were, of course, a ton of kids at the screening. Which also means that the constant chatter volume in the theater was at about the same level as a Metallica concert. Our row was filled with critics and small children—one of whom I totally expected to climb onto Bill’s lap and grab some of those sour watermelon things that he’s so obsessive about. But, somehow, despite the noise…and despite the kids…and despite the fact that the movie is, in fact, about surfing penguins, we actually enjoyed it. Go figure.

The most exciting part of the screening, however, was at the beginning, when we got to watch a Guy With A Flashlight go after someone in the front of the theater. Bill and I were hoping they’d finally caught someone attempting to pirate a movie. After all, they bring in the people with the night vision goggles just for busting people who are trying to pirate the movie. It would be nice if they’d actually get to catch one from time to time. But alas, it was just a grandma with a cell phone. That’s not to say that she didn’t deserve to get busted—because anyone who’s stupid enough to make a phone call from the front row of the theater in the middle of a promotional screening of a kids’ movie deserves to be busted (or perhaps even electrocuted)—but I was really hoping for a busted pirate. Better luck next time, I guess.


This Week’s Film Critic Discussion Topics:

- Penguins. Are film critics the only ones who notice that studios keep releasing movies about penguins? Do moviegoers suffer from short-term memory loss, or do they actually realize that they’re constantly being duped into seeing more movies about penguins and buying stuffed penguins and penguin DVDs? Anyone? Before seeing Surf’s Up this week, we were discussing how the critics quoted on the movie’s commercials were calling it “unique”—which Neil wisely amended by calling Surf’s Up “The Most Original Penguin Movie Since the Last Penguin Movie.” Seriously, though. Aren’t there any other entertaining animals? How about monkeys? Whatever happened to monkeys? Or maybe even otters. Otters are cute. Or maybe llamas (because it’s fun to say “llama”). Or kangaroos. Anything but penguins.

- Bad promotional tactics. This week, I got an email announcing that the makers of Hostel II are sponsoring an eBay auction. They’ll be auctioning off autographed posters and things from the movie—to benefit the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation. Is it just me, or is that just sick and wrong? “Well, we’re auctioning off naked headless pictures of Bijou Phillips—but it’s okay, ‘cuz it’s for the kids.” In the wise words of my esteemed colleague, David Medsker, “That does it. Eli Roth must die.”