Rodent Drama

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
The Forbidden Kingdom
Married Life
Priceless (Hors de Prix)
Street Kings

It’s been quite a week here in Rodent Land. Before you read on, if you haven’t already read Monday’s post, now’s the time to get caught up on the week’s drama.

So after Monday’s drama, I think we were all supposed to feel a bit disheartened—like we’re all just a bunch of worthless hacks. But it’s actually been a really fun week. After the initial shock and outrage over the whole thing, this whole fiasco turned out to be one of those amusing little things that we can all sit around and laugh about. In fact, we’ve learned to embrace our status as rodents, and we’ve all bonded over it. The week has just been one rat joke after another.

Fortunately, we had all kinds of opportunities to discuss it—because we had five screenings this week. We had screenings on Monday and Tuesday morning—after which Clay and I had to scramble to write up our show, since we had to record on Wednesday morning. Fortunately, it all went off without much of a hitch. All of the writing was done (miraculously, really) by 5 or 6 on Tuesday. And we were sure that it was going to be a good show.

On Wednesday morning, I got up and raced out the door at 8—in time to fill up the tank and make it to the studio in time to meet Clay at 8:45ish. We rehearsed once, only to find that, unlike last week’s show (which started out way too short), this week’s show was way too long. So we sat down and started trimming things down. Then, at just after 9, we set up the studio and got ready to go.

Now, I’m not a morning person—and, similarly, my voice is not a morning voice. First thing in the morning, I’m a little bit phlegmy—and it’s even worse during allergy season. Clay happened to be having the same vocal issues, so we ended up getting off to a late start, since we’d had to spend so much time hacking up a lung. Then we had a few false starts, after realizing we’d written some pretty good tongue twisters for ourselves (try saying “filmmaker Morgan Spurlock” a few times). Then, however, things finally came together. Our sound levels were right, our time was good, and we didn’t trip over each other nearly as much as we did last week. So then we got the show edited and ready to go. By 10:30, we were out the door and on our way to the North Star Café to celebrate over coffee and the world’s best morning glory muffins. We finally got the hang of things—just in time for John to return from Greece.

I must say, though—this week’s show was one of my personal favorites of the 14 I’ve done. You can here it for yourself at WCBE.org.

On Wednesday night, I headed out to see The Forbidden Kingdom. When I got there, I met Jason and his girlfriend, Milu, at the door, and we wandered down the hall together. Even though it was still 45 minutes before the screening was scheduled to begin, they had already started letting the crowd in. That didn’t strike us as a problem until we got inside and made our way halfway up the stairs, only to discover that our usual seats had been taken. None of the others had gotten there before us—and the reps hadn’t saved our seats (either that, or those people who were sitting there had taken the “Reserved for Press” signs off and helped themselves). So we ended up sitting at the very end of the row, in seats that didn’t make us happy at all. And I ended up sitting next to some guy who somehow managed to get a cell phone into the theater (despite the fact that they’d apparently been very strict on the no-cell-phone thing), and it kept ringing throughout the entire movie. And if his phone weren’t ringing, he was having some very loud conversation with the guy next to him. I was tempted to hit him—or perhaps grab his phone off his hip and turn it off—but I didn’t.

So after Wednesday night’s screening, we were back at it on Thursday morning—for CJ7—and then again on Thursday night for Forgetting Sarah Marshall. At the Thursday morning screening, we got to hear all of Neil’s stories about his adventures at the 88 Minutes screening on Wednesday night. Apparently, some drunk guy ran into the theater, jumped down from the balcony, and sat down in the press seats. Neil politely told the guy that he might want to move—so he did. Not long after that, a whole bunch of security guys came in and dragged the guy out. I really feel bad that I missed that one—but from what I hear about the movie, I made the better choice for Wednesday night screenings.

I did, however, also miss out on the new rep accusing Neil of making up Film School Rejects on the way into the theater, just so he could claim to be press—because she’d never heard of him. Nice.

And that takes me to Thursday night’s adventure. My husband, Paul, joined me for the Sarah Marshall screening—and as we were making our way out of the parking garage, we ran into Jason…and then we met Kevin in the lobby. So we all made our way into the theater, where we found David, sitting in the middle of the back row of the bottom section of the theater. There was a whole bunch of confusion over the press seats, though, since one of the reps had put down “Reserved for Press” signs, but then she’d written names on them—because she was apparently bringing her whole family. So after we finally figured out the whole seating situation, we settled in to compare notes on the week. Just as we were chatting, some woman from a couple of seats down got up and climbed over us to get out. On the way out, she apparently made some comment to the rep’s mom, inquiring, in the nosiest way possible, who she was. When she came back from her bathroom break, she then took aim at us.

“So you’re the press,” she said in an accusatory tone. “And who are you with?”

We all just kinda looked at each other with that Is she for real? look.

David replied to her by explaining that we all wrote for various online publications. She huffed.

“And you?” she continued, focusing her gaze on Paul and me. At this point, I was pretty much done with the woman, and I just wanted her to finish climbing over me, so I could go back to sitting comfortably, instead of scrunching up so she could stand in front of me and accuse me of stealing press seats.

“Same,” I replied.

With another huff, she returned to her seat, just two seats down from Paul, and announced loudly, “They’re not press.”

I swear David was about to get up and punch her. In fact, he told me to go slap her—since I could get away with it, being a chick and all.

So, clearly, it was a big week for Internet writer discrimination. But it seems that rodents (while prolific), are also pretty tough. I’m pretty sure we’ll survive. And, really, what doesn’t kill us will only make us stronger.

This week was definitely an exhausting one, but I must admit that it was also a whole heck of a lot of fun. I can’t wait to see what new drama unfolds next week—and I look forward to seeing the movies, too.

…In Which I Miss Out on All the Fun

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Vince Vaughn’s Wild West Comedy Show

Every once in a while, things get exciting at screenings (as they did at December’s I Am Legend screening). But this week, I missed out on all the fun.

This week’s schedule started with a super-early screening of Will Ferrell’s new movie, Semi-Pro, on Monday night. Will was going to be in town this week for a comedy show, and a bunch of people were interviewing him, so we got to see the movie more than three weeks before its release.

I got out of knitting early on Monday night, so I had an extra hour to kill before I needed to leave for the theater. I could have gone home for a few minutes, but I decided just to head to the general vicinity of the theater instead and grab some dinner at the friendly neighborhood Wendy’s. It was a quiet night at Wendy’s, and it appeared to be ‘80s night on the Wendy’s Radio Network—so it was the perfect place to hang out for a while, get a little work done, do some reading, and kill some time (while singing along with such greats as George Michael and, I think, Wang Chung). Wheee! That, mixed with some food I probably shouldn’t eat (or at least that’s what John would tell me), had me in a pretty good mood by the time I got to the theater.

Since we were there for a super-early screening, we were in a tiny theater, which felt like one big family reunion. Though the theater was topped up with non-press, we took over much of the theater, which meant there was plenty of wandering around and chatting before the movie began. Colin brought a few left-over McLovin T-shirts (which, just for the record, I was thrilled about—and I’ll wear it with pride), and he filled John and me in on a college screening of Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins that he’d attended. He warned us that it was absolutely horrible—in fact, he couldn’t stop talking about how horrible it was. And that made me consider skipping the Tuesday night screening.

Not long before the screening was going to start, Neil arrived with his roommate, Richard (AKA Richard the Producer from Fat Guys at the Movies). We hadn’t seen Neil since Sundance, so he had plenty of stories. In fact, I don’t think I’d seen him at a single screening all year. So we had all kinds of catching up to do. Like I said…family reunion.

Since it was such an early screening and all, apparently they hadn’t worked out the glitches with the print—like the fact that we didn’t have any sound in the beginning. So Jason sang the opening jingles for us. He’s thoughtful like that.

It also seems as though we may have had the same cell-phone-obsessed security guy for this screening as the one we had last week. Usually, when a security guy is cell-phone-obsessed, it means that he harasses anyone who might have a cell phone on. And that’s a good thing. This guy, however, actually keeps his on. Last week, he was chatting on his phone during the screening. This week, I think his phone actually rang during the screening. Apparently, it’s okay for him to have his phone on during the screening—but not anybody else.

On Tuesday morning, we were all (well, some) back together again for a screening of Persepolis, which we’re still bitter that we didn’t see during awards season. Despite the fact that I still hate driving to the other side of town for morning screenings, it was kinda nice to be back. Not only that, but they’d baked fresh chocolate chip cookies for the occasion, and they were still warm and gooey. So there were no complaints from me this time around. Of course, it meant sitting down in seats that lost their padding sometime around 1982. But, well…there were fresh cookies—and that makes it okay.

After screenings on Monday night and Tuesday morning, I wasn’t exactly eager to go to another screening on Tuesday night—especially not for Roscoe Jenkins, which Colin had warned us about. Not only that, but we had another screening on Wednesday night—and I had a meeting scheduled for Thursday night. So I figured I’d take a night off. And, from what I’ve heard about the movie, I didn’t miss much there. I did, however, miss out on all the excitement.

During the usual barrage of emails on Wednesday afternoon, I found out that there had been an, um, altercation at the screening. So when I got to the Fool’s Gold screening on Wednesday night, I was eager to have Jason fill me in.

I had already heard that the screening was packed—because I’d given an extra pass to a guy from my husband’s office, and he didn’t end up getting in. So things were already a little tense. But that’s only the beginning. Jason and Bill had gotten there early and were saving seats for the rest of the gang. Jason had his coat on the press seat beside him to reserve it for someone. Suddenly, his coat was tossed on his lap, and some guy sat down in the seat he’d been saving.

“Excuse me…” Jason said to the man beside him. “You didn’t have to throw my coat on the floor.”

“I didn’t throw it on the floor,” the guy huffed. “I threw it on your lap.”

The two of them then got into a discussion about whether or not the other guy (who was not press) could sit down in a seat that was both (a) reserved for press and (b) being saved for someone. He was pretty sure that he could sit wherever the heck he wanted. There were words exchanged, after which the guy ended up mimicking Jason like a four-year-old.

Eventually, Molly, the rep, showed up to try to find more press seats—because they were running low—and told the guy that he was going to have to move. He told her that he could sit wherever he wanted, and she couldn’t tell him what to do. Molly explained to him that she could, in fact, do whatever she wanted to. And he could either find another seat or she could throw him out. In hearing about the exchange, I suddenly gained a whole new respect for Molly.

In the end, the obnoxious guy somehow managed to keep his seat—which seriously irritated everyone else. But the incident is sure to become Critic Folklore (along with the crazy I Am Legend screening and our screening of The Pursuit of Happyness, when we had to stop in the middle and wait an hour for the projectionist to finagle the print—clearly Will Smith movies are unlucky for us). It’s one of those stories that we’ll tell and retell for years to come. We’ll share it with young critics who someday join our merry band. We’ll tell the story so many times that the youngsters will start to wonder if the senile old folks just made it all up. It’ll go down in Critic History. And, sadly, I wasn’t even there to see it.

It did, however, make the screening of Fool’s Gold more entertaining. Because Jason’s story was the most entertaining part of the night. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who thought so—because I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people blatantly playing with their cell phones during a movie (except, perhaps, during Happily N’Ever After, the longest 75-minute movie ever made).

Now, after all those screenings, I’m trying to get caught up on my reviews—after which I’ll dive into some of the DVDs that have started piling up on the coffee table again. And then I’ll write more reviews. And then I’ll start all over again on Monday—when we’ve got a morning screening and an evening screening. There’s just no better way to start the week off at a ridiculously frantic pace than with two Monday screenings.

I’m going to have to make sure that I stock up on coffee over the weekend…

In other news, the official invitations for the Cleveland International Film Festival Columbus Preview went out this week. I couldn’t find the information on CIFF’s site, but, as I said before, it’s Monday, the 25th, from 5:30 to 7:30. There will be munchies and prizes and things—so mark your calendars now.

Oh, and by the way…Clay wants everyone to know that what I said about him and John and their harem in last week’s post is totally untrue—but I’m pretty sure he’s just worried that I might have scared prospective harem members away.

Clueless Moviegoers…and Other Job Hazards

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Over Her Dead Body
Rambo

This week, we got to say good-bye to January movies and move on to February movies. But, as it turns out, just because a movie isn’t released in January doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s going to be better than a January movie.

Take, for instance, our Monday night screening.

I can’t say that any of us were actually looking forward to seeing Over Her Dead Body. I mean, I’m a girl, and even I was dreading it. Fortunately, though, we turned a negative into a positive by meeting up at BW3 before the screening to eat wings (I got some nice spicy wings, hoping they’d dull my senses so I wouldn’t feel the pain of the screening so much) and compare notes on Rambo. Jason, David, and I had all seen it together on Friday morning, and Bill had gone with his brother on Friday night—so we ended up spending most of our meal discussing exploding heads and dismemberment. So, of course, we were all in a pretty good mood by the time we had to head over to the theater.

The screening was scheduled to start at 7:30, so we made our way to the theater single-file, Swingers-style, by about 6:45. We got to sneak in just before they started letting in the rest of the crowd. We were all settled in (except for Kevin, who was meeting up with us later) at about 7, when the lights went down and something popped up on the screen. We all looked at each other in confusion, wondering if they were going to start the movie a whole half-hour early—and, in doing so, give us an extra half-hour of our lives back. Either that, or they were going to play a half-hour of ads before the movie started—which would suck, since that would mean we couldn’t even talk for that half-hour.

But after a few seconds, we realized that it was, in fact, the movie. No trailers or anything. We were thrilled.

Or at least we were thrilled for about five minutes—because that’s when everything froze. Then the screen went black, and the lights went up. The rep came in and called it a “test” and said that they’d start the movie again a little closer to 7:30—maybe in 10 minutes or so. So I ran out to the bathroom and came back in, figuring they’d be starting soon.

At about 7:35, the lights dimmed again, and the movie started again. Before we even made it through all of the studio credits, it stopped again. This time, the aspect ratio was off (though I’m not sure how that happened, since it was fine the first time they started the movie. So then we had to wait for another five minutes or so—meaning that the actual screening ended up starting 10 minutes late instead of 30 minutes early. What a cruel, cruel joke.

To make things worse, not only was it a ridiculous movie, but I was seated next to a couple who were convinced they were in their living room—and they proceeded to chat their way through the movie. Halfway through the movie, the guy pointed out “Hey…this is kinda funny.”

Really? I considered asking him if he and I were watching the same movie. Because the movie I was watching was actually kinda annoying.

My personal favorite moment, though, was when, at one point, Living Room Guy asked his wife, “Where’s she going?” as Lake Bell wandered off somewhere. Like his wife was psychic—and she actually knew what was going to happen in the movie before anyone else did. Or perhaps she wrote the movie (which would explain why he thought it was funny).

Then again, I actually could have told him where she was going—because it was just that predictable. But, once again, I kept my mouth shut.

Then, finally, when the movie ended, much to the rest of our great relief, Living Room Guy loudly announced, “That was a good movie!” Then he applauded.

People never cease to amaze me. There he was, sitting just two seats down from me, and he clearly saw a totally different movie than I did. Weird.

On a side note, though, the most amusing part of the evening (even more amusing than the people next to me) was when the security guard (whose job is to catch people who are using their cell phones and throw them out of the theater) got a phone call—and actually answered it while he was standing in the theater. Brilliant!

So anyway…we had another screening on Tuesday. It was a daytime screening—and since it was the first daytime screening of the year, I figured I’d go…just because.

The strange thing about the screening, though, was that it was scheduled for noon. Daytime screenings are typically at 11, and that extra hour totally threw me off. I was so confused. And then I had to try to eat something before I left, since I’d be starving by the end of the movie—but I wasn’t really hungry before the movie. It was all very strange. Obviously, I don’t handle change well.

Finally, on Wednesday night, there was a last-minute screening scheduled—one that hadn’t shown up on our grid until Monday afternoon. The screening was for The Spiderwick Chronicles, a movie that my young friend, Miss A, has been telling me about for ages, and she’ll be so very jealous when she hears that I’ve already seen it (and I’m pretty sure I’ll have to give a full account when I see her on Monday afternoon). I almost didn’t go—which wouldn’t have been a huge deal, since there are screenings scheduled for closer to the release date—but it’s always nice to get to a screening early and get the review over with. The problem was that I still hadn’t finished writing up the reviews for the other two screenings I’d attended earlier in the week. But I managed to finish them both in the afternoon, so I decided to go.

The screening was held in a tiny room, hidden in the back corner of the theater—so there weren’t many people there. As always, we were there early—early enough to sneak in before everyone else. Usually, that’s a good thing—because it means we get the seats we want. The downside of that, however, is that we don’t get to choose the people we sit near. This time, for instance, we ended up right behind some people who had brought a little boy (I’m guessing he was maybe two or three years old) who clearly had no interest in the movie. He was, however, interested in popcorn. Also, he seemed to be pretty interested in standing up on his mom’s lap and staring back at me. He also felt like chatting quite a bit. Fortunately, his mom eventually took him out of the theater—which was nice both for me and for the child, since I’m thinking the movie probably would have freaked him out a little bit. But, since it doesn’t come out for a couple of weeks, that’s all I can say about it. You’ll just have to wait for my review for the rest….

It looks like we’re going to have a busy couple of weeks now. Not only are there a few more movies coming out, but they’re actually movies that are screening for press (unlike Strange Wilderness and The Eye, which Kevin, ever the glutton for punishment, was going to see in a double-feature this morning). Next week, we’ve got screenings on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday (actually, Thursday and Saturday, too—but I’ve already seen that movie). The week after that is full, too.

Meanwhile, I’m already starting to gear up for this year’s Cleveland International Film Festival, which is just weeks away. The festival was one of the highlights of my year last year, and I can’t wait to go again (especially if it means partaking in another Martini Night). For those of you in the Columbus area, be sure to mark your calendars for Monday, February 25th. From 5:30 to 7:30, WCBE is sponsoring a CIFF preview party at the Arena Grand. John and Clay are hosting, and I’ll be hanging around for moral support. Not only is the film festival a great time, but so is the party—where you can grab some munchies while getting a preview of the festival. Last year, I was only there for a few minutes, but at least I got to chat with an It’s Movie Time listener for a while. This year, I plan to be mingling the whole time, so I hope to meet a few more people. If not, I’m thinking I’ll pretty much be on my own, since John and Clay tend to amass a harem of attractive (and attentive) young women wherever they go. And since I’ve known them long enough that I only occasionally humor them, it means that I usually end up sitting back and watching their antics in quiet amusement. So please…plan to join me and share in my amusement.

Pre-December Warm-Ups

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium
Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead

With Thanksgiving right around the corner, things got a little crazy for the members of the Central Ohio Film Critics Association this week, reminding us that December is breathing down our necks.

When we started the week, we had six screenings already scheduled—most of which I was really looking forward to, for a change. So when it was time to get started on Monday morning, I packed my favorite travel mug and headed to our screening of I’m Not There, the marvelously artistic yet totally perplexing film about Bob Dylan.

By that point on Monday morning, I was just happy to get out of the house for a while, for any reason other than to drive to the pharmacy to pick up more gauze or to find something called Betadine. It had been a long weekend for my poor, one-armed husband, and neither of us had gotten much sleep—which is no way to start a hectic week like this one. But despite the recent overabundance of award season disappointments, I was ridiculously upbeat about the week’s offerings. Perhaps I’d just mistaken my husband’s pain meds for my morning multivitamin.

As we walked out of I’m Not There, comparing notes and trying to piece it all together, we were told that we had back-to-back screenings scheduled for Tuesday—one at 11 and another at 1. That took the weekly tally up to seven. And although it was Monday—and I was already exhausted—I briefly considered going to both, as well as the evening screening of Love in the Time of Cholera. But, eventually, I came to my senses.

Also on Monday, a very tragic event occurred. After I rinsed out my favorite travel mug, it fell off the counter, and the handle broke off. I was devastated. I’d asked for the mug last Christmas, after realizing that December would be so much easier to deal with if I had a nice big travel coffee mug. And now, with December right around the corner, I once again found myself mugless. I began to panic—until my one-armed husband studied the bottom of the mug and noticed that it had a lifetime guarantee. I sent the company an email about it, and they offered to replace it. So I would like to thank the kind people at Aladdin who are, at this moment, working to make my December livable.

On Tuesday morning, I dropped my husband off at his office so he could show his face for a while during my 11:00 screening of Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. Apparently, I was the only one who was actually looking forward to the movie (and I had been ever since I found out that it was written and directed by Zach Helm, who wrote Stranger Than Fiction). But, in the end, I was right. Only John (who will, from this point forward, be known as Scrooge) pulled his nose up at it. And he continued to do so as he and Clay and I walked across the street from the theater for a quick smoothie break. Of course, as I told John, I wasn’t really surprised that he hated Magorium (which, incidentally, he dubbed “Dumborium”), since he tends to prefer slow movies that go nowhere—like Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead. But he continued to get more and more adamant as we sipped our smoothies. From now on, John is cut off from ginseng smoothies.

On Tuesday night, I had every intention of seeing Cholera, despite the fact that it didn’t seem to be a popular choice among critics in general (John said it was a film for us “refined critics”—this coming from a guy who once called me “trash”). Although I really wanted to see it—and although I really wanted to be considered a refined critic, it suddenly occurred to me that I just didn’t have the time to go. I had a game that needed to be reviewed and a feature article that needed to be written—and when I stopped by the mailbox, I found two DVDs that needed my attention. So I stayed home, maintaining my reputation as “trash”—a reputation that was probably only confirmed by the excitement I felt on Wednesday morning, when I showed up for the screening of Stephen King’s latest, The Mist.

On Wednesday night, though, I redeemed myself by choosing the Coen Brothers’ No Country for Old Men over the 3D version of Beowulf. Then again, perhaps I would have appeared more refined if I’d chosen the animated version of classic literature. I guess I’ll have to check with John on that to be sure. But, either way, I went with the Coen Brothers.

The screening was at The Theater Where Nobody Shuts Up. That meant that the guy ahead of me refused to turn off his cell phone (as did numerous others throughout the theater) and the pair behind us felt the need to comment on everything that was happening on-screen. And the people who’d decided to sit in the middle of our aisle decided to get into heavy debate before choosing to get up and climb over top of the rest of us mid-movie. And No Country is clearly not a brainless movie. It requires concentration that I was not allowed. So, despite the fact that I loved most of it, by the end, I was angry and confused. And I was pretty tempted to grab the cell phone out of the hands of the guy ahead of me, throw it down on the floor, and stomp on it. And I was pretty tempted to smack the people behind me around a bit. But perhaps I’m just tired and cranky.

I could, however, relate to the frustration felt by some random man at the front of the theater—who, upon seeing the screen go black, yelled, “Aw, hells to tha no!” Personally, I thought that it was just a theater screw-up (which, for this theater, wouldn’t have been anything new), and they’d just lost the last reel—but then the credits started rolling. And I was perplexed. I’m still trying to figure it all out, and I’m eagerly awaiting the award screener, so I can watch it again.

On Thursday morning, we actually had the morning off. It was strange—so strange, in fact, that I found myself panicking when I got up, thinking I had to rush to get everything done before the latest screening. Boy, was I relieved when I remembered that I had nowhere to be until 7.

After spending the day trying to get my head above water, I headed over to Neil’s place at 6—because we’d decided to carpool to The Theater Where Nobody Shuts Up, since it’s also The Theater That Has No Parking. Really, it was a tough call, deciding whether or not to go. After all, Juno doesn’t come out for another few weeks—and it had been a crazy week already. So I had to decide whether I wanted to tack one more screening onto this week’s list or hold off until one of the later screenings, in December, which is likely to be even more insane. But Jason and Neil were going, so I figure I’d go, too. And there, at The Theater Where Nobody Shuts Up, I ended up seated behind some kid with the biggest hair ever. He also had good posture. So I’m not quite sure what happened at the bottom part of the screening, but the rest of it was fun. And I got a free T-shirt out of the deal—and for once, it’s one that I’ll actually wear (unlike those creepy T-shirts that some geeks gave me at last year’s board game convention).

The rep warned me weeks ago that they were doing some serious promo for this one, and it’s worth checking out. So if you want to see it for free, check out FoxSearchlight.com to find free screenings near you.

After a four-day screening marathon, I had today free. It was glorious. But it also meant that I got to my computer this morning to groggily stare down an inbox crammed full with super-urgent emails. And, from its spot beside my computer, a ridiculously long to-do list called to me. Fortunately, though, my husband’s convalescence means that I’ll most likely have plenty of time to play catch-up over the weekend (except when I have to drive him to get a haircut). And, other than a pair of screenings on Monday, the week is free and clear. There’s also turkey and stuffing and all kinds of spare screener-viewing time involved, so I’m looking forward to it.

Shhhh…!

New at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Superbad
Stardust

Don’t tell, but I’m skipping a screening right now, as I write this. Clearly, the hot, humid weather of the last few weeks (not to mention the fact that it’s August—and very little of note comes out in August) has left me feeling a bit sluggish. Lazy. Indifferent, even. And maybe just the tiniest bit burnt out. And I just couldn’t force myself to leave the office this morning to go and see something heavy and dramatic.

Actually, I’m starting to understand why studios release nothing but bad comedies in August—because, really, that’s all I feel like watching right now. I don’t feel like watching something long and dramatic. Just hook me up with something light and silly (and preferably short), and I’m good. And, fortunately, that’s what I got this week.

It all started on Tuesday morning, with the press screening of The Nanny Diaries.

As you might recall, I was a bit concerned last week about our pal, Kevin Carr, who left for Comic-Con and never came back. Fortunately, though, he arrived at the screening on Tuesday morning—all in one piece and sans prison tattoo. He was, however, very, very tan, having just returned from a cruise. He had to explain the whole thing to us, since most of us are completely unfamiliar with the concept of “vacation.”

To celebrate Kevin’s safe return, we decided that a special happy hour was in order. Since several of us were planning on heading to a screening of Superbad on Tuesday evening—and since that screening just happened to be taking place on campus, which, of course, is saturated with college bars—we figured that we’d head to the screening a bit early.

By the time my husband and I showed up (admittedly quite late), Bill and Kevin had secured a table on the bar’s upper patio. Bill had a glass and a pitcher of beer in front of him (he informed us it was his second pitcher). And Kevin had a pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea with a straw in it.

“Look!” Kevin exclaimed as we sat down. “Two-dollar pitchers of Long Island! And they just bring it out with a straw!”

Since we were seeing Superbad that night, I figured it would probably be best if I drank as much as possible in the short amount of time remaining before the screening, so I immediately ordered my very own two-dollar pitcher (with a straw) and a couple of plates of appetizers.

Before we left the bar, Kevin managed to down a second pitcher (which, I swear, he drank in approximately 20 seconds). Then we carefully made our way down the stairs and across the sidewalk to the theater. Having just finished whole pitchers of drinks, we made a pitstop before heading into the theater and attempting to climb up the ridiculously uneven stairs to the seats that Jason and his girlfriend had saved for us.

As it turned out, I found myself wishing I’d had a second pitcher before the movie. Because while some of it was quite funny (especially anything involving McLovin), I wasn’t nearly drunk enough (and probably not nearly male enough) to find it absolutely, positively hilarious. The guy sitting next to my husband, on the other hand, was laughing so hard that, looking back, I wonder if, perhaps, he wasn’t laughing at all. Perhaps it was a seizure. Maybe we should have called 911.

Wednesday night’s screening, however, was more my style—and I hadn’t even been drinking. But Frank Oz’s new movie, Death at a Funeral is hilarious. And, clearly, it’s funny for viewers of all ages—because the senior citizens that made up the crowd at the screening seemed to love it just as much as I did.

Wednesday’s screening was held at a theater that rarely hosts evening screenings. And it’s probably just best that way. The last time I was there for an evening screening was back in December. It was my last screening of the month before leaving town for the holidays, and I made my way into a lobby that was packed with Red Hat Ladies, who multiplied by the minute, and who had obviously never been taught that (a) it’s not polite to shove people out of the way and (b) when you go inside the theater, it’s not polite to yell at your friends, who are seated on the other side of the theater.

This week’s screening wasn’t packed with Red Hat Ladies, though—or at least if they were Red Hat Ladies, they were incognito. But since the theater is in an older, wealthier part of town, the crowd was old. Very old. But if they were rich, they clearly weren’t refined, well-mannered, rich old people. They were loud. And pushy. And when they were let into the theater and took their seats around Neil, Kevin, and I, they got even louder. And pushier. And once the movie started, they seemed to get louder still.

We were clearly surrounded by Pepperpots. They reacted (loudly) to everything that took place in the trailers and in the movie. When the opening credits began, one woman behind us announced, for the whole theater to hear, “This is our movie now. It’s not another preview.”

They were, however, absolutely fascinated by the opening credits, which consist of a simple animation of a coffin traveling along a map. Occasionally, it would make a wrong turn, and it would then turn around and go back. It also went around roundabouts. To the Pepperpots, this was all wildly entertaining.

“They could have just done the whole movie this way, and these people would have loved it,” Neil pointed out to me.

As the movie continued, not only did we have to endure the constant chatter of the Pepper Pots (which, admittedly, gave us a near fatal case of the giggles), but I can’t even tell you how many times we were interrupted by the ringing of cell phones (if only those big guys with the night-vision goggles had been there!). There was also the guy behind us, who had some horrible illness, and who spent the majority of the film honking his schnozz into what sounded like a paper bag. All in all, it was so loud in that theater that I missed large portions of the dialogue. But the audience seemed to find it absolutely hilarious, so it must have been funny, right?

Really, you’d think that such a refined part of town would make for a refined crowd. But when it all comes down to it, I rank them second on the Obnoxious Scale—because they’re still slightly less obnoxious than the Balcony Brigade.

Other than this morning’s screening, that was it for the week. Things have been eerily quiet lately. We’ve had a few screenings—but lately, all the biggest releases haven’t been screening. This week, for instance, we saw Superbad and Death at a Funeral, but we didn’t get to see The Invasion or The Last Legion. If this continues, we may have to start doing what Kevin and Neil did on their show right before Kevin went on vacation: psychic reviews. We’re just going to have to start writing our reviews based on what we guess the movie is going to be like. Just for the record, I psychically give The Invasion a D+. And The Last Legion gets…a C+ (mostly just because Colin Firth is in it).

Next week is another ridiculously slow week. Apparently, there’s a screening on Tuesday—because I got a pass for it, even though it isn’t on any of our schedules. There’s also a screening on Thursday night—for a movie that doesn’t come out until late next month. And there’s an obscure documentary (I think that’s what it is) screening on Friday. But I guess that’s okay. It’ll give me time to catch up on the pile of DVDs that showed up yesterday morning…

Things Finally Start to Heat Up…

New Reviews at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Nancy Drew
Fido
Surf’s Up

Things have definitely started heating up around here—and no, I’m not talking about the summer movies. They’re as dull as ever.

Interesting story… So last Wednesday, I arrived at our screening to hear one of they guys at the theater talking about a Tuesday morning screening of a certain summer super-hero movie—a screening that none of us had previously heard about. This theater guy told us all to come—the more, the merrier—and he promised to send out an email about it later.

This screening came as a pleasant surprise to all of us. For one thing, I’d much rather go to a daytime screening than an evening screening—because, well, it’s just us. No fanboys or screaming babies. No crowds or radio DJs getting said crowd all riled up, so they end up talking and/or kicking your seat through the entire movie. Not only that, but it’s not fun to have to work three nights a week, especially when we already work five days a week. And it’s hard to maintain a marriage with someone you only see about a half hour a day (10 minutes for breakfast, 15 for dinner, 5 for watching TV before bedtime). So I was really looking forward to my one night off. I was also looking forward to being able to write up my review without being rushed—since I’d have almost three days until publication. Perfect.

On Tuesday morning, a series of quick emails confirmed that no one had gotten an email about the screening—but we generally agreed that we’d been told to show up anyway. So we did. We all got to the theater and signed in. The pots of coffee were out, so we assumed that meant they’d been expecting us—so we grabbed a cookie and a cup of coffee and caught up on the weekend’s gossip while we waited for the movie to begin.

Then, however, things fell apart. A few of us were gathered around one of the tables in the lobby when one of the guys from the theater came up to us and told us that we weren’t allowed to see the movie. The poor guy had to come out and tell a lobby full of film critics—most of whom had driven a pretty great distance (Neil had even skipped the first day of his golf league) to see the movie—that they weren’t allowed to see it. And he wasn’t kidding. A few frantic phone calls were made, during which the rep and apparently the studio confirmed that only the guy from the local paper was allowed to see the movie.

As my friend Chandra said later, when I told her the story, “What were they going to do, make you go home?”

And that, my friends, is precisely what they did do.

I feel pretty bad for the poor guy who, even though he hadn’t told us to come in the first place, had to tell us to leave. I’m sure it also must have sucked just a little bit to be the one guy allowed to see the movie—who got to walk in as we all watched, with sad, puppy-dog eyes, and who had to sit there, knowing that we were all standing in the lobby. At least we didn’t pound on the door—though, as it turns out, that probably would have made it a little more interesting for him.

But, in the end, I mostly just felt sorry for us.

Apparently, though, the studio had a policy, and that was that. We weren’t allowed to see it. So we stood around in the lobby for a while, continuing our discussions, before going our separate ways.

It’s nothing new for a studio not to want reviews to run before the movie’s release date—and we’re occasionally told when we’re allowed to publish our reviews. The same, incidentally, is sometimes true for book reviews (though not as frequently). And, as professionals, we comply with those wishes. Actually, I rarely publish a review before the morning of release anyway—just to be sure. But when we’re told not to publish early, we respect that. We know that if we were to ignore those requests, there would be consequences—and we don’t want to deal with them. But at least give us a chance here. Innocent until proven guilty, and all that.

But instead, we weren’t even allowed to see the movie until the night before release. That meant that local weeklies and radio shows, who require things like production time, will have to wait until next week to run reviews—and that online critics had to scramble to get reviews written in time for weekend publication. And that makes for cranky critics. But, from the sound of it, that’s going to happen more and more often—which just means that we critics will inevitably get more and more cranky.

So anyway, things were pretty busy the rest of the week—since we now had screenings Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night. There was one Thursday morning, too, but it didn’t take long for me to decide that I didn’t have the time for an indie this week.

On Tuesday, my husband had just given his two-week notice at work, after getting all the paperwork for his new job. So I picked him up and we had happy hour munchies to celebrate before seeing Nancy Drew. I really wish I’d had a little something stronger than water to drink—because it might have made the experience a little less annoying. Fortunately, though, I ended up sitting next to Bill’s mom, who was just as unimpressed by the movie as I was—and it’s always fun to have someone to heckle with.

None of us, though, were really there because we wanted to see Nancy Drew. We were just there because David’s wife, Deb, was bringing their son to say hello after the screening. Since Deb’s been busy having a baby and all over the last couple of months, we haven’t seen much of her lately—so we were all excited to see Deb and the little guy (who, incidentally, is the cutest little guy in the world). Much baby talk ensued.

So then, on Wednesday, while my husband went to play hockey, I once again met up with the gang to see A Mighty Heart. The security guards were out in full force on Wednesday—which we thought was pretty strange. Sure, we can see heightened security for a big blockbuster like Shrek. But who’s really going to want to pirate a drama about a journalist who was killed in Pakistan? I don’t care if Angelina Jolie is in it—it’s just not a movie that, if I were to consider a career in movie pirating, I would want to pirate. But, according to later reports, four people were thrown out of the theater—one of them a member of the press, attending his first screening (apparently, his notebook was shiny, and someone thought he had a camera…or something like that). We’ll see if he ever comes back…

Now, I commend these people for finally doing something about all of the idiots who show up to screenings and spend the whole time text messaging their friends (though granted, they’re not actually looking for text-messaging idiots—just pirating idiots—but they seem to kill two birds with one stone). So go ahead—throw them out. But at least be quiet about it. The first time, the woman in question was right behind Jason—and the security guard ended up standing in front of him, turning on her flashlight, and blinding him in the process of throwing the cell phone offender out. Numbers two and three were right in front of us, and two security guards spent all kinds of time yelling at the offenders, and then walking to the side of the theater and loudly conversing, and then going back to the offenders to yell at them again. I realize they’re trying to prevent pirating and all, but can’t they do so without ruining the movie for everyone else? In the end, they were actually more annoying than the people with the cell phones.

And, unfortunately, the security guards did nothing about the two pepperpots sitting behind me and to the right, who gave a loud running commentary on the entire movie. The security guards also did nothing about the person behind me, who spent the entire movie kicking the back of my seat—which probably didn’t do much to help the serious case of motion sickness that the frantically shaking footage had brought on. Actually, I spent a lot of the movie trying not to throw up.

But I wonder what the security guards would have done if I had.

So after two less-than-satisfying nights at the movies, I wasn’t really in the mood for the Thursday morning screening. So I didn’t go. From what I hear, that was a pretty good call on my part. Man, I love it when I skip the bad movies.

But on Thursday night, I was back to the theater again, to see Fantastic Four. The big topic of the night was the interesting little news item that we’d all come across, about a kid who’d been “suspended” (from the sounds of it, he’s pretty sure that means permanently suspended) from his job as a projectionist for posting an early review (a negative review, incidentally). Apparently, the studio had tracked the kid down and had threatened to cancel all screenings if the theater didn’t do something about the situation. Now, if the kid had signed some kind of confidentiality agreement, I could totally understand this one. But there was no such agreement.

I wonder if they sent big, mean-looking henchmen who threatened to break the kid’s kneecaps. And, if so, I wonder if any of them had one blue eye and one brown eye—because that would make them extra mean and scary.

As for the movie itself, even though I didn’t like the first one, I was kinda looking forward to the second one—probably, in part, because of the giant silver guy that’s been hanging out in the theater for the last month or so. He looked really cool. Unfortunately, the movie is not so cool. Actually, it’s a bit of a drag.

And, just for the record, if I were Jessica Alba, I would have gone for a different wedding dress. It was nice and all, but after spending two years working in a bridal shop in high school, I know that she couldn’t have found something more flattering.

After all the insanity of the week, I even had to sit out of this week’s Summer Festival Luncheon at John’s place. It’s become a bit of a tradition—every time there’s a festival going on downtown, I meet up with John and Clay to get some lunch and enjoy it on John’s balcony. And this week, there was even sangria. But I was two movie reviews (and let’s not even talk about how many music reviews) behind—so I had to miss the Latino Festival. But I’m sure there will be something next week. There almost always is.

But next week will be another busy one. Another four screenings—starting with 1408 on Monday morning. If you ask me, it’s a strange movie to watch on a Monday morning, but I’m looking forward to it anyway. I love Stephen King, and I love John Cusack. Together, they’re like strawberries and whipped cream. And that’s definitely worth a little rushing around on a Monday morning.


This Week’s Film Critic Discussion Topic:

Live Free or Die Hard is rated PG-13, to the shock and absolute devastation of poor Bill. This led to a discussion about what Bruce Willis will have to say after “Yippee Ki-Yay.” My current personal favorite is David’s: “Yippee Ki-Yay, Motor Scooter.”

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.”

The Slow Build

New Reviews at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Knocked Up
Angel-A
Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

It’s been another quiet week here in CriticWorld—which was actually nice, since it gave me a chance to catch up after taking the long holiday weekend off. Well, not off entirely, since I did take advantage of the 12+ hours in the car. While I drove, I listened to a new CD that I needed to review. And when I wasn’t driving, I was watching episodes from a DVD box set that I need to review. And then, of course, there were the books and DVDs that I took along to work on while I was gone. I left my laptop behind, though—which, if you ask me, is pretty impressive.

This week, we only had one screening—on Tuesday night. (Actually, we had two screenings—but they were scheduled for the exact, same night. How smart is that?) It was an early screening on the other side of town, which always makes for a frantic evening. It didn’t help that we were almost entirely out of food in the house (except for the caramel brownies that I’d made for the weekend and had then totally forgotten to bring along), so I had to run out in the afternoon to get a few essentials before running home to make dinner, which we then had to inhale in ten minutes or less before running out the door. It doesn’t help, I think, that we’re so out of practice with this whole screening thing. When I have a bunch during the week, I’m way more organized—because I have to be. When I only have one, all organization goes flying out the window. Actually, I was just lucky that I knew where I was supposed to be—and when. Because when I got to the theater and pulled out my phone to turn it off (as all good moviegoers should), I saw there was a message from David, who had ended up at the wrong theater (something that’s been happening to a lot of us lately) and was rushing to make it in time.

The movie of the week was Knocked Up, which was good for a few laughs—more, I thought, than Apatow’s The 40-Year-Old Virgin, which got really old for me after a while.

But can I just tell you how sick I am of the whole pregnancy thing? I mean, over the last year or so, we’ve had around ten friends and family members give birth. And we’ve currently got at least three more on the way. This is especially exhausting for me, since I knit—and since, when our friends started having babies a couple of years ago, I responded by knitting all kinds of baby blankets and sweaters and booties and things. And now everybody expects that I’ll reward them with cute little knitted things just because they decided to procreate. But now it’s not just my friends anymore. It’s not just both of my sisters-in-law getting pregnant, just a few months apart. It’s also all of Hollywood—Brangelina and TomKat and Gwen and Gavin and everybody else, who’ve decided, all that the same time, that pregnancy is hip. Fortunately, I don’t have to knit them baby blankets. But now, thanks to this whole pregnancy fad, there’s a pregnant woman in pretty much every movie I see. Let’s see…so far this year, we’ve had Claire-Hope Ashitey in Children of Men, Nia Long in Are We Don’t Yet?, Amanda Peet in The Ex, Fiona in Shrek the Third, and Keri Russell in Waitress. And then, of course, there’s Katherine Heigl in Knocked Up. Who am I missing?

Personally, I’m surprised that Mary Jane didn’t end up pregnant in Spider-Man 3. Or Elizabeth in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End. But the summer is still young.

But really, dear Hollywood—enough with the stories about pregnant people already. You’re just giving the people around me all the more reason to regularly inquire about the status of my uterus, and I’ve had enough.

Next week, things gradually start to pick up again. We actually have three screenings. The summer releases are starting to pick up now—so I’m bracing for the inevitable.

Since this was a one-screening week, I’m going to close out this week’s entry with an extended edition of…

This Week’s Film Critic Discussion Topics:

The big news this week is that Regal Entertainment Group is rolling out a brilliant little gadget that will allow moviegoers to report problems with a movie—or tattle on the idiots around them. The device features four buttons: Picture, Sound, Piracy, and Other Disturbance. Is the picture half on the screen and half off? Push the button? Does the guy next to you have a video camera? Push the button. Will the idiot behind you not shut up? Push away!

We critics have decided that we should each be given our own little device. But instead of just pushing a button and having someone react, we want instant gratification. We want electrodes hooked up to the seats around us. So if you still want to text message your BFF during the movie—even after you’ve been told to shut off your phone already—be prepared to be electrocuted. Repeatedly. By every single film critic in attendance. Serves you right.

If electrodes are deemed cruel and unusual punishment, we will also consider catapults and/or trap doors.

Where Have All the Movies Gone?

New Reviews at NightsAndWeekends.com Since Last Week:
Shrek the Third
The Valet (La Doublure)
28 Weeks Later

This week was an eerily quiet week on the film front. Theoretically, that should have given me the opportunity to get caught up on other things—like the pile of submissions that I’ve been pretending don’t exist, or the CDs, DVDs, books, and games that have been piling up on my desk, begging to be reviewed before they become unbalanced, causing a deadly avalanche. But, in reality, the quiet week has given me the opportunity to sleep off my worst allergy outbreak in years (which has also led me to the perfect name for a band: Phlegm Bucket).

The only screening this week was Shrek the Third on Tuesday night. Had it been any lesser film, I would have skipped the screening and spent the night curled up on the couch in my jammies. But it was Shrek. I couldn’t miss it. So I rushed off to the theater to make sure I’d get a seat before they let in the masses.

It was pretty clear that the Shrek screening was a big one. For most screenings, one rep will show up and make sure everything goes smoothly. For Shrek, there were at least four reps present. One met us at the door. One whisked us past the mammoth line to the theater. (This, my friends, is the closest we get to feeling like superstars—though we didn’t even get to walk the special Green Carpet.) And two others were handling crowd control.

Inside the theater, there were sponsors galore. Usually, there’s a radio station and maybe a newspaper and/or TV station. But I can’t say that I’ve ever been to a McDonald’s-sponsored screening. Unfortunately, they were not handing out complimentary Happy Meals. There was, however, a ton of swag. From what one of the other critics told me, someone had been out in the hall, handing Puss in Boots masks to the kids, who were doing their best imitations of Antonio Banderas’s accent. In addition to the masks, there were posters and huge prize packages, complete with Shrek PJs (which, Bill noted, would make a fortune on eBay).

Since it was the only screening of the week—and since Bill had just returned from vacation—we all had plenty of movie chatter and critic gossip to get caught up on. But we had to talk fast—because once they started letting the masses into the theater, the place turned into a circus.

After every seat in the theater was packed, we still had another 15 minutes of mass hysteria until the beginning of the movie. And by the time the movie started, there were already a couple of crying children. At that point, the only thing Shrek had going for it was its mercifully short runtime.

Not far into the movie, we all started having horrible flashbacks. The chatter heated up in the critics’ row, until, after one of Prince Charming’s key lines, three of us huddled together with exclamations of “No way!” and “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Because the plot was shaping into that of January’s animated flop, Happily N’Ever After. I mean, frighteningly close. So close that it later led David to exclaim, “I’m telling you, there’s a spy at DreamWorks.” And, really, how could it be that a bunch of people, at the exact same time, decided to make movies about all the fairy tale villains getting together to overthrow the fairly tale world and have their own Happily Ever After? It’s an awful lot like the recent explosion of movies about pampered zoo animals returning to the wild.

So Shrek the Third turned out, not surprisingly, to be the same old thing—only even less funny because it’s the third time we’ve had to sit through it. As my husband wisely noted, it would have been good if it had been the first Shrek movie. But because it’s the third one, it’s really nothing special.

As we made our way out of the theater, trying to talk about something other than Shrek, Jason grumbled, “I hate those movies. All of them.”

So now, we’ve got two of the summer’s Big Threes down. Next week, Pirates 3 comes out, and, personally, I’m getting a little more worried with every passing week. It could be a colossal hit—or it could be even more of a colossal disaster than Pirates 2. (Might I say, for a moment, in response to last summer’s articles about how film critics are obviously stupid because critics hated Pirates 2, but it made gobs of money anyway: just because lots of people saw it doesn’t mean that lots of people liked it.)

Next week’s screening schedule is still pretty light, though. One on Monday night, and a couple of options on Wednesday night. The whole Pirates 3 thing still hasn’t been worked out, so who knows when we’ll be seeing that one. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a last-minute daytime press-only screening.

On next Friday, we’re taking off early for the holiday weekend—packing the portable DVD player for six-hour drive to my parents’ cottage in Michigan. So I’m hoping to get next week’s update up on Thursday. It may be overly optimistic of me, but I’m going to run with that for now.


This Week’s Film Critic Topics for Discussion:

- Pirates 3—though not really “Will it be any good?” as much as “Will they even screen it?” and “Will they trim it, or will they keep the final cut at a whopping three hours?”

- Summer movies in general—specifically, how long we’ll have to sit through the bad before we get to the good. Or, perhaps more appropriately, will there actually be any good?

- Cell phones in movies: Just turn them off already—or Kevin might have to turn it off for you.