May
29
“Drag Me to Hell” Review
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I remember the first time I saw “Army of Darkness.” I had just become interested in horror films, and the movie looked like the apex of the genre. Because I knew very little about horror at that point, I didn’t have any idea that I was actually about to see the third flick in the “Evil Dead” series. Of course that was partly due to how Universal marketed the film. At any rate, it was in that sparsely populated theater where my horror movie fandom was galvanized, and I also became a lifelong follower of director Sam Raimi.
I was pleased to learn that Raimi was taking a break from the “Spider-Man” franchise to recharge his batteries and knock out a quickie horror film, “Drag Me to Hell.” It was disappointing, though, to later find out it’d be a PG-13 movie. “Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn” is so blood-drenched, it was originally released without a rating. Raimi’s style — something called “splatstick” — is a gooey blend of “The Three Stooges” and viscera. So I was worried that Raimi would be hobbled by a softer rating. Granted, 13-year-olds are the perfect audience for his horror pictures; I was 13 when I first saw “Army of Darkness.” But I was still concerned the film might not live up to his earlier work.
I really enjoyed the first half of “Drag Me to Hell.” Raimi’s camerawork, sound design and editing are masterful. The scene with Alison Lohman’s (no relation) character Christine Brown being attacked by the gypsy Sylvia Ganush (Lorna Raver) in a parking garage is hysterical…in every sense of the word. Raimi can build and maintain a sense of dread that is only matched by his ability to deliver the laughs. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t quite live up to its full potential, at least it didn’t for me. I found it a little redundant after awhile. Christine goes to work, and something scary happens; she bakes a cake, and something scary happens; she meets her boyfriend’s parents, and something scary happens.
Horror movies have second act problems. You have to keep the protagonist in constant danger without killing him/her, and all the while, raise the stakes so the audience doesn’t become bored with the proceedings. Christine’s desperation after learning she’s been cursed causes problems for her both personally and professionally. Even so, there are setups that aren’t paid off — her childhood obesity, her lactose intolerance, her boyfriend’s job as a psychology professor — leaving threads dangling and the viewer uncertain as to why we were even bothered with certain bits of exposition. The gypsy curse, in which the goat-headed demon Lamia will drag her to hell in three days’ time, is a nasty, noisy inconvenience, not something that throws her entire life into a complete tailspin during that 72-hour period.
I guess I wanted to see Christine’s world completely unravel. She’s not a terribly sympathetic character. The whole curse comes about after she denies Mrs. Ganush a third extension on her mortgage in a bid for a promotion. Our empathy for her should come from watching her endure all the punishment that’s doled out to her. I just didn’t feel it, though. She wasn’t rotten enough for me to root against her, and at the same time, she wasn’t sweet enough for me to want her to break the curse. The movie would’ve benefitted from the curse negatively impacting her job as well as her love life. It’s hard to make an audience full of people who haven’t been damned to the fiery inferno to identify with someone who has. There needs to be a common thread, some sense of loss we can relate to.
I think I need to give “Drag Me to Hell” another chance. I went in with too much baggage, expecting “Evil Dead 4.” I don’t know if I gave the movie a fair shake. It’s leaps and bounds better — and scarier — than R-rated fare like “My Bloody Valentine 3D” and so forth. That in and of itself is a triumph. I just wanted to love it more than I did, to feel like I did the first time I saw “Army of Darkness.” Nonetheless, I still had a pretty good time going to “Hell.”
-Brad Lohan
May
28
Being a Completist
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Of the three rebootquels released so far this summer — excluding “Angels & Demons” because it’s unfortunately not a follow-up to Tom Hanks’ seminal “Bachelor Party” — I’ll only be picking up one on DVD. That would be “Star Trek.” “X-Men Origins: Wolverine” and “Terminator Salvation” are one-and-done films, movies I can’t imagine ever sitting through again for any reason whatsoever. As a completist, this causes me great pain.
When I fall in love with a franchise, I fall hard. I collect all manner of dumb bullshit associated with the film cycle. Currently, I own three out of the four “Star Trek” glasses from Burger King. I got a free t-shirt at the 12:01 am screening of the movie earlier this month. I’m even holding out hope that I’ll someday meet a green-skinned chick that I can add to my menagerie.
I’ve always been a collector. Toys, comics, DVDs, apparel, drinkware — I love all manner of useless crap that does not impress women. Last night I shaved with a Wolverine Quattro razor. Now that I have more discretionary income, not to mention an eBay account, I don’t have to wait for my birthday or Christmas to roll around, like I did when I was a kid, to add to my collection.
But what happens when a franchise starts to go stale? I own “X3: X-Men United,” but I can’t see myself giving it a spin again. If I lived closer to Amoeba Music — the puppy lake for DVDs I no longer wish to own — I’d probably sell it back as I did with “Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines.” It’s a sin against completism, I know. Still, I can’t see myself shelling out money for movies and other ancillary junk that belong to a creatively bankrupt film series.
So does that make me an incompletist? I mean, I own “Basic Instinct 2: Risk Addiction” on DVD. I have a fairly high tolerance for misfires, all things being equal. But one can only love a franchise so much before having to let it go.
-Brad Lohan
May
27
Live Long and Berserker
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Last weekend, I riffled through my comic book collection and unearthed “Star Trek/X-Men,” perhaps the greatest team-up to come down the pike since “Punisher Meets Archie.” Well, it sounds like the greatest team-up at least. Re-reading the book, I found myself less than thrilled with the finished product than I was when I picked it up well over a decade ago. It definitely suffers from being a product of its time — specifically, the 1990s.
The issue starts out with the crew of the USS Enterprise — Kirk, Spock, McCoy, et al. — returning to Delta Vega some time after the events of the episode “Where No Man Has Gone Before.” An anomaly spits out a bizarre-looking starship that’s promptly destroyed by another starship, but not before the occupants of the ill-fated craft — the X-Men — teleport themselves aboard the Enterprise. The Enterprise crew quickly stumbles upon the stowaways, and the fan service begins. Someone shouts, “Dr. McCoy!” and both Bones and the Beast respond. Spock gives Wolverine a Vulcan nerve pinch, from which he quickly recovers thanks to his healing factor. And ultimately, the Merry Mutants and the Enterprise crew join forces to fight a resurrected, god-like Gary Mitchell — Kirk’s old friend from his days at the Academy — and the entity known as Proteus, some sort of metaphysical douche from the Marvel U.
The art in this book is absolutely atrocious. Mark Silvestri can’t seem to draw people in anything but action poses. Wolverine’s always sitting on his haunches, his bone claws fully extended. The Enterprise crew members all look like they’ve been juicing up on steroids. Their Starfleet uniforms are stretched thin by every major muscle group swelling to the point of bursting.
In keeping with the completely esoteric and nonsensical plotting that makes me generally avoid X-books, the story is incomprehensible. “Star Trek” has a very straightforward structure that I like. But the writers avoid that in favor of throwing a whole bunch of dumb ideas out there and then rushing the ending. It was like watching a little kid playing with “Star Trek” and “X-Men” action figures, not really understanding who these people are or how they’d interact. I think that Spock and Wolverine would make a great pair, however, so many story opportunities are eschewed in favor of having everyone stand around and talk about the boring plot while striking a pose.
It’d have been better if the crew of the Enterprise had passed through some temporal anomaly and found themselves in the 1990s, around the time to the Eugenics War. Then they could’ve brought in “Trek” supervillain Khan Noonien Singh as well as X-Men baddie, Magneto. Unfortunately, no one asked me to write this book. This was a great idea that was bungled by folks with no concept of what makes the “Star Trek” and the “X-Men” characters appealing.
-Brad Lohan
May
26
Here’s a Dumb Idea
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Goodness knows I tried to become a fan of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” — the show, not the crap movie. It was something my goth girlfriend in college was an unabashed fan of, and conceptually, it seemed like it was up my alley. But like “Firefly,” Joss Whedon’s shows are simply too impressed with themselves to win me over. The preening and obnoxious characters that populate the Buffy-verse make me long for the typical dumb teenagers in horror films who aren’t quite so self-aware. Someone told me one time that there’s a such thing as being too clever. And that’s what I don’t like about “Buffy.”
At any rate, the show’s been off the air for several years now. A subsequent comic book series picked up where the show had left off. I read about three or four issues before I finally came to the conclusion there was no way in hell I was ever going to appreciate this material in any medium. There’s also been talk for awhile about another feature film for years. Funnily enough, the original 1992 Kristy Swanson film — also starring “90210″ dreamboat Luke Perry! — was a bomb at the box office, a rather ignonimous start for the cult franchise. Now it’s looking like a “Buffy” film might actually happen, according to IMDb. Just don’t expect Whedon or Sarah Michelle Gellar or any the cast of the TV series to be involved.
That rattling fart you’re hearing right now is the entire fanbase collectively shitting themselves. Even as a non-fan, I’m a little irked by this decision. It’s not as though the property is thirty years old and in need of straight reboot. That said, Paramount made ten “Star Trek” films, using the same cast from one series or the other before relaunching the brand. However, I’ve come to realize that no creative decision is too ill-advised for Hollywood. More often than not, it seems that the dumber ideas are the ones more likely to reach the big screen.
I wonder if that means Kristy Swanson will play Buffy again.
-Brad Lohan
May
23
Before I stop complaining about the sheer mediocrity that is “Terminator Salvation,” I should devote some attention to the film’s composer, Danny Elfman. I can’t recall a single note from the score to “Terminator Salvation,” apart from the few seconds of Brad Fidel’s percussive “T2″ theme that’s played over the opening credits. The audience actually applauded that bit of fan service. Unfortunately, nothing Elfman wrote for the film comes close to matching the muscular scores that Fidel wrote for the first two “Terminator” films.
Elfman’s been on autopilot since the first “Batman.” His scores for “Dick Tracy,” “Darkman” and “The Flash” television series all have a same-y quality to them. I don’t know a whole hell of a lot about music, but I do know what I like. And most of Elfman’s early work — even if it’s more than a little redundant — is iconic. His scores for “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure,” “Beetlejuice” and the aforementioned “Batman” are fantastic, beatifully complimenting the bizarro worlds that director Tim Burton creates in each of those films.
Of late, Elfman’s music is simply uninspired. I’m a somewhat fond of his score for “Spider-Man,” but it’s nowhere near as triumphant as the “Batman March.” Elfman hasn’t become as bland as Marco Beltrami, who never wrote a piece of music that isn’t completely forgettable. Still, he could try challenging himself rather than revisiting the same strings and horns every time.
Elfman, to his credit, did come up with something very evocative for Ang Lee’s “Hulk” in 2003. The music sounded nothing at all like his standard fare. It’s completely wrong for the movie, but it’s at least different.
I used to buy a lot of movie soundtracks and listen to scores endlessly. I don’t so much anymore. It’s as though composers aren’t even trying. They write a few tones and call it a score. Maybe they feel marginalized by all the shitty pop music that’s shoehorned into films nowadays. I’m not sure what it is.
Composers are the unsung heroes of cinema. Very few of them are known to the average movie-goer because their efforts are invisible. They are nevertheless essential. Movies have had musical accompaniments since before they had sound. During the silent era, someone would be playing an organ as the film unspool, complimenting the visuals with a live soundtrack. Music is part of cinema language, an absolutely essential tool in the medium.
That said, I wish composers like Danny Elfman would step up every now and again and come up with a score that stays with me long after the film is over.
-Brad Lohan
May
21
“Terminator Salvation” Review
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Have you seen the trailer for “Terminator Salvation?” If so, you just saved yourself $10. As a movie, “Terminator Salvation” simply provides the connective tissue between the money shots that are all given away in the trailer. Seeing the film is hardly worth the effort. I didn’t think it was bad, really. But it’s devastatingly mediocre. I’d have rather hated it than been left feeling so indifferent about the proceedings. It makes writing a review a real stone bastard. Well, maybe I’ll talk myself into loathing the film before this is all said and done.
What’s wrong with “Terminator Salvation” is that it’s soulless, like the metal monsters cast as the villains. There’s no humanity, no depth, no wit — none of what makes the first two entries work. The titular Terminators — the T-600s — are reduced to mechanical zombies in this film. They’re not the brilliantly deadpan characters like the Terminators played by Arnold Schwarzenegger or Robert Patrick. These have no personality or charisma or style. They’re killing machines. The human characters, meanwhile, barely register, either.
Christian Bale is on autopilot at John Connor, a soldier in the Human Resistance who’s known from birth that he will someday lead the war against the Machines and tip the balance in humanity’s favor. But his take on Connor is so angrily one-note, it’s impossible to forget about his on-set meltdown and invest yourself in this sourpuss. Where’s the charismatic leader that Kyle Reese talked about in the first film? I wouldn’t follow this asshole into battle. By film’s end, I still didn’t feel like I really knew much of anything about him. You’d imagine Connor would feel an incredible burden, being a messianic figure and a war hero. Instead, he just seems to be slightly inconvenienced by his fate. Christ, Keanu Reeves brought more pathos to Neo in the “Matrix” sequels.
The script is just as bored with Connor as Bale is. Oddly, the hero of the film is actually Marcus Wright, played by Sam Worthington. Wright’s a death row inmate who donates his body to Cyberdyne during an unintentionally hilarious scene at the top of the film. If I tried to describe it, you’d think I was making it up. At any rate, the trailers have already revealed that Marcus becomes a cyborg after he’s executed. This bit of business needlessly retcons the series’ mythology. I don’t know why the filmmakers took this route, and director McG certainly doesn’t bother making Marcus’ redemption story terribly interesting. Marcus was apparently a cold-blooded killer in his previous incarnation, not unlike the T-800 in “T2,” but his transition from beast to human has no dramatic weight to it.
Anton Yelchin’s Kyle Reese has the same flinty quality that Michael Biehn brought to the role in the first “Terminator.” Unfortunately, he disappears from the film for lengthy stretches and ultimately becomes a MacGuffin for John Connor to retrieve from Skynet. The Machines seem to know that Reese will someday become Connor’s father, yet they keep him alive as bait. It’s a stupid leap in logic that doesn’t work in the context of the previous films. Luring Connor to Skynet in a rescue attempt makes zero sense when they can easily kill the person who’ll someday become his father and elminate the problem then and there.
Why the filmmakers didn’t pair Connor with Reese early in the film and follow the structure of the previous installments — minus the time travel element — is anybody’s guess. I’d have loved to see Connor cast in the role of a protector and parental figure for his own dad. It’s pointless, though, to talk at length about what a movie should’ve done. Besides, this shit was written by the literary geniuses who’d previously scripted “Catwoman.” What did I expect? “Blade Runner?”
All that being said, I don’t think I’ve talked myself into actively hating the film. Like the Terminators, I really feel nothing one way or the other.
-Brad Lohan
May
19
Oh No, Is “Terminator Salvation” a Pile?
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I’m almost finished with the EU novel “T2: Infiltrator” by SM Stirling. The book is a direct sequel to “Terminator 2,” although the events don’t jibe with the third film in the series. In my opinion, it’s a much better story and takes a series in a more interesting direction than the half-assed Jonathan Mostow threequel. I’d love to see “Infiltrator” made into a film. Not only does the book have a genetically-engineered female Terminator, the I-950, but it has the human that the T-800s — the Terminators played by Arnold in the films — are modeled after, Dieter Von Rossbach. “Infiltrator” deepens the mythology established by the first two films without piling on anything utterly stupid or pointless, which is pretty much all “T3″ has on its mind.
I had been nervous about “Terminator Salvation” when it was first announced, but after seeing a couple trailers, I felt more confident that the film may deliver. Of course, nobody’s thrilled that McG’s in the director’s chair; I don’t even think he likes the fact he landed the job, he’s such an insecure sonofabitch. But Jonathan Nolan was brought in to work on the script, and I remember read somewhere that Shawn Ryan — creator of “The Shield” — did an uncredited rewrite as well. I want believe the material is idiot-proof, so even the guy who directed “Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle” can’t screw it up.
The reviews are rolling in, though, and the general consensus is pretty poor. Where “Star Trek” somehow rises above its gaping plot holes, “Terminator Salvation” sounds like it’s dragged down by them. I find it fairly remarkable that screenwriters can’t seem to avoid writing crappy stories, since there are only like a billion books on how to write a script available at every big box bookstore in Los Angeles. Seeing as how Hollywood wants nothing to do with me, I sort of would like to imagine that it’s because I’m a shitty writer. Then again, maybe I’m just not shitty enough. I can’t tell you how many movies I’ve rewritten in my head on the drive home from the theater and fixed all the script problems. I know as a creative person that it’s easy to become myopic when you’re attached to a particular project. Writers sometimes have a hard time seeing the forest for the trees when cranking out a script. Still, it’s simply annoying to see $100 million+ being invested in a script I could’ve written a hell of a lot better.
It also sucks to be a fan. I want to see a good “Terminator” movie, dammit to hell. I’m already locked in for the 12:01 a.m. screening tomorrow night. On a side note, I’m beginning to rethink my strategy of buying advanced tickets. Not too many movies are literally worth losing sleep over I’m discovering. At any rate, I’m not thrilled that I need to lower my expectations again before I walk into the theater. Where’s my salvation from that?
-Brad Lohan
May
18
Wow, It’s Been 10 Years
Filed Under Blockbusters, Culture, Movies | Leave a Comment
A decade ago, I got in line with a bunch of other stupid asses for the 12:01 a.m. screening of “Star Wars: Episode One – The Phantom Menace.” I went with a couple of buddies of mine from college as well as a female co-worker who was moderately interested in me. At the time I had a job at the movie theater where I was seeing the film, but unfortunately, not even Regal employees could watch the movie for free. We had to pay to see it just like everyone else. Lucasfilm had a list of draconian rules in an effort to wring every last nickel out of “Star Wars” lovers. The movie was coming out in the shadow of “Titanic,” and people sincerely believed “The Phantom Menace” would be the “Titanic” buster.
And it might’ve been if it weren’t such a piece of shit film.
I was late to the party with “Star Wars.” I vaguely remember seeing “Return of the Jedi” when I was 3 or 4, but that’s hardly the film to spark one’s interest in the original trilogy. It’s so unevenly paced and perfunctory. None of the payoffs have any dramatic weight because the direction is so indifferent. In fact, “Return of the Jedi” is essentially the template for the SW prequels. At any rate, as a boy I was more into He-Man than Luke Skywalker.
It wasn’t until the Special Editions of the original trilogy were released in 1997 that I got into SW. I tried to make up for lost time, collecting all manner of toys, EU novels, posters, comics and so forth. By the spring of ‘99, I was as hardcore a SW geek as could be. As such, I was absolutely certain I was about to see the most game-changing — no, life-changing — movie ever made.
Yeah, not so much.
Writing another review of “The Phantom Menace” is pointless. You know it sucks, and so do I. No, what’s worth noting about “The Phantom Menace” is that it represents the end of an era for geeks the world over. During the next half-dozen years, as the two subsequent prequels came and went, we collectively experienced the five stages of grief, mourning the painful death of our beloved franchise. Here’s how I coped:
Denial: “It didn’t suck that bad.”
I saw the film six times in the theater then bought it on VHS before upgrading to a DVD version. That being said, if I could go back in time and prevent my own birth, I would.
Anger: “Death to Jar Jar!”
I visited websites that depicted all manner of Gungan torture porn.
Bargaining: “The lightsaber duel at the end is worth the price of admission alone.”
My roommates and I wore out my VHS tape, rewatching the climactic battle where Darth Maul hands Qui-Gon Jinn his ass before getting inexplicably pwned by Obi-Wan Kenobi. We neglected the remaining two hours of the film.
Depression: “I can’t sit through this movie anymore.”
I found that if you turn on the Spanish-language version of the film and watch the movie with English subtitles, Jar Jar is much less insufferable. Even so, I can’t remember the last time I actually made it all the way to the end.
Acceptance: “The prequels suck.”
Last year, I sold all three of my SW prequel DVDs to Amoeba Music for a few bucks.
I wonder sometimes, as I imagine many geeks do, what it would’ve been like if “The Phantom Menace” had lived up to expectations. I’m sure it wouldn’t have changed my life, liked I’d hoped. Still, it was the most colossal letdown in the history of my movie-going. I wasn’t wowed the same way irritating people claim to have been when they first saw the original “Star Wars” back in ‘77. The first prequel did, however, make me thankful that I hadn’t spent two decades of my life loving everything about the franchise.
-Brad Lohan
May
14
The first season of “Star Trek” — the original series, or TOS for short — arrived in the mail yesterday. I ended up watching five episodes last night, staying up well past my bedtime. I’d never been a ginormous fan of the show, since I’m more a movie buff. But now I can’t get enough of TOS. I think I can honestly call myself a Trekkie or a Trekker. I believe the difference between the two is that a Trekkie is someone who is into cosplay and reads the EU novels and knows all sorts of arcane bullshit about the various incarnations of the show. A Trekker is also a diehard fan, but doesn’t speak a word of Klingon.
On a side note, in high school I directed and starred in a short film called “Trekkies.” Shot on VHS, it stars myself and a friend of mine as two socially retarded “Star Wars” fans that everyone confuses with Trekkies, much to our chagrin. Perhaps my favorite gag in the film is a send-up of “Scream” — something that was much more timely when we made it in 1997 — when my nameless character gets a phone call from someone who asks if I like scary movies. I answer in the negative and say I prefer sci-fi. Then I promptly hang up on him. My friend’s nameless character asks what the call was all about, and I tell him it’s “some dumb survey.” I thought it was a knee-slapper at the time. Did I mention that I made this in high school?
At any rate, my fandom for “Star Wars” has since imploded. I honestly couldn’t care less about the franchise at this point. I roll my eyes when people talk about the experience of seeing the original film “on the big screen” in 1977, like the ’70s had no other culturally significant movies to offer. Riiight. When myopic dweebs talk about how much of a game-changer “Star Wars” was in terms of filmmaking, they fail to acknowledge the fact that the 1970s was the decade of zeitgeist movies. “Star Wars” wasn’t the first blockbuster franchise either, not when it came out the same year as the tenth James Bond film, “The Spy Who Loved Me.”
“Star Trek,” despite appearing on TV a full decade before “Star Wars” hit screens, has unfortunately existed in the shadow of Lucas’ merchandising monolith from 1977 onward. “Star Trek: The Motion Picture” probably never would’ve been greenlit had the first “Star Wars” film bombed. The endless debate about which franchise is “better” has often ignored the fact that it’s an apples and oranges argument. That being said, JJ Abrams’ new “Trek” film is definitely more like “Star Wars” in terms of action and spectacle than the previous installments. I hope the inevitable sequel has more ideas because that’s really what the beauty of “Star Trek” is — its ideas.
Where George Lucas sort of runs out of ideas about 2/3rds of the way through the original “Star Wars” trilogy and coasts on fumes during the prequels, “Star Trek” isn’t wanting for imagination. I’m not bored to tears by the character stuff because “Trek” is actually about the characters, not the action. The show’s special effects might be dodgy, but who gives a dump? What’s significant about “Star Trek” is how it has more on its mind than simply careening from one setpiece to the next, cherrypicking elements of the Hero’s Journey and pretending to be more than just a video game that plays itself.
I might have shown up a little late to the party with “Star Trek,” and maybe not appropriately dressed, but I finally see what’s kept the franchise viable for over four decades. Now let’s see what kind of a “Trek” fan — Trekkie or Trekker? — I ultimately become.
-Brad Lohan
May
13
Going to press screenings is a pain in the tuchus. You have to get there at least an hour early, stand in line for what seens like aeons, get wanded, sit in a crummy seat and wait some more. The movie never starts on time, and often times, it’s more trouble than it’s worth. I think the last press screening I attended was “28 Weeks Later.” It’s a movie that I enjoyed, but the rigmarole beforehand I could’ve done without. I probably should’ve just waited until the film was in wide release and seen it then.
That brings me to the press screening of “Drag Me to Hell,” which I almost got to attend last night. Although I have a blog, I’m not considered a member of the press. You have to get some sort of bullshit accredidation from an organization of elitist nosepicks in order to be a credentialed film critic and be able to attend these screenings as a member of the press. Nuts to that. I think I can write hollow, hyperbolic reviews just as well as the next hacky schmuck with a degree in Journalism. Film criticism, in my opinion, has taken a fat dump in recent years. Critics seem to be writing reviews that are little more than a collection of histrionic pull quotes, like having their blurbs featured in print ads or immortalized on DVD covers is far more important than analyzing the film in question.
At any rate, film critics can sit and spin. Their profession is unique in its worthlessness. Reviews don’t make or break films. Word-of-mouth does. The average movie-goer doesn’t care what some sanctimonious critic thinks of a film. They want to know what their friends think of it, people whose tastes are similar to their own. Some studios don’t even bother screening films for critics. Those movies are considered “critic-proof.” They’re films that will open big regardless of what vitriolic reviews they might receive from critics who ultimately had to pay to see them just like everybody else! Nothing pisses a critic off more than having to shell out $10 to watch a movie, another sticking point of mine. It’d be like me complaining about how much I spend in gas to get to work everyday. Critics are whiny little bitches.
Before I get too wildly off-topic, what the hell was I doing at a press screening in the first place, you ask? If I’m not a member of the press, how’d I get invited? Well, critics can barely be considered human beings. They’re sort of like the Terminator. Their reaction to a film might be wildly different from the average person’s because they don’t think and feel as we do. So ordinary people are invited to press screenings to sort of give critics a sense of whether or not a movie actually plays. The problem is sometimes too many people are invited to these screenings, and folks like me get turned away after standing in goddamn line for over an hour.
I should’ve known better than to go in the first effing place. This same thing had happened in ‘04 when I tried to get into a press screening of “Collateral.” But I really wanted to see “Drag Me to Hell,” and I figured that if I got there early enough, I should have no problem getting in. The invite I’d gotten last weekend said to be there no later than 6:15 pm. I got in line at 6 on the dot. Reps from The Screening Exchange started herding people into the theater in batches around 6:30. But as it got closer to 7, they left a good number of us in the lurch. Nobody would tell us anything. We just sort of stood there, wondering if we were going to get in or not. There was a bit of a delay, as we waited for more critics to arrive, which made me see red. If you have to be at work at 7 pm(!), and can’t get there on time, I hope you die. They should’ve let us normal people in and told the latecoming critics that they were SOL. Why leave those seats available for people who can’t show up to “work” on time? Make them tell their editors they couldn’t get into the movie because they were fashionably late. They should only have to miss one deadline before they start showing up early for screenings.
Ultimately, we were given $7 gift certificates to Mann Theaters, my second least-favorite movie theater chain, and sent on our way. The screening was at the ArcLight Hollywood, which made the coupon useless to us. Never mind that it was for seven measly clams. I decided that I might as well see a movie anyway, so I caught the 7:25 showing of the documentary “Tyson.” I went home that night still pissed off about the whole experience and vowed to never drag myself to the pure hell that is a press screening again.
-Brad Lohan