Hi. This is my new column. It’s sort of been thrust upon me, and even now, I’m unsure what will really be its theme. It may never even have one. The idea of having something so undefined and loose is really terrifying to me, but I’m going to go with it, and we’ll see what comes of it.
But a funny thing happened as I was laying in bed, racking my brains, trying to come up with a viable and discussable topic. My iPod inexplicably landed on the Blade Runner score, and I inwardly shuddered, and then realized “Holy shit, I should write about this very sensation, and by doing so, exorcise it forever!”
I love Blade Runner. Every sci-fi nerd or nerdette worth their salt does. I’ve lost track of the first time I saw it — probably 2am on a cable channel — but I can remember the moment it was ruined for me: ComicCon 2007. This was the year they had a Blade Runner: The Final Cut panel and like many eager geeks, I plunked my butt down in Hall H to see it. I was with a group of friends, and we were all excitedly whispering (let me stress that — whispering in the booming audio of Hall H) back and forth about the footage and what We Had Read on the Internet About It. (This was back when I was still a happy reader, working my way into becoming a neurotic writer. I know, it wasn’t that long ago.)
Suddenly, I heard a loud sigh and a woman’s voice boomed behind me: “Well, honey, I was enjoying it until some people decided they couldn’t shut the fuck up.”
Being the hothead I am, I turned around and said “Yeah, I was enjoying it too until some people decided they had to be fucking assholes about it!” Or something to that effect. All I really remember is that her eyes bugged out of her head, and I threw a few more hissed fucks her way, and then we left.
My friends decided I needed a drink. Once out at the Tin Fish, cold Coronas in hand, we bitterly railed about how nasty the con was this year, and traded stories of similar jerks. We all had awful encounters that year, and we were all quiet and good-natured geeks. To this day, the woman’s reaction utterly baffles me. I can’t think of a time before or since that I’ve been in Hall H without similar (and far louder than our breathy “They redid the Zhora scene!” back and forth) discussions of joy and fandom erupted in seats around me. That’s ComicCon. It’s not a movie theater.
Regardless of who the asshole was or wasn’t in that particular situation, the result is this — it has really damaged Blade Runner for me. I’ve seen it once since then, and I enjoyed it with a minimum of salted slug stomach. But it was still there. It remains whenever the score loops into my iPod, and I hastily turn it off. I just think of that awful woman, and the boiling fury I felt when I realized she was talking about us, and I can’t think of anything else.
Blade Runner isn’t the only one. There’s others. Hook has always made me nauseated, and not for the critical reasons everyone else hates it. The day I saw it was one of the lousiest ever, and it fed into a crappy summer of best friend betrayal. In fact, Hook was even (bizarrely) brought up in one of these very childhood friends. My emotionally troubled friend decided she would rather hang out with her baby-sitter and watch MTV, leaving me outside with her little brother. The sitter was your typical psychotic teen, and wouldn’t let us into the garage, the basement, or the house where any of the toys or bikes were.
Her excuse? “Use your imagination. You think the kids in Hook had any toys? They used their imagination!”
Me being a smart-ass, I said “Yeah well, I can’t exactly imagine a bike and have it appear before me like they did in Hook.”
So, yeah. I hate that movie. If I see the poster for it, I don’t think of the movie itself. I remember the awful not-gonna-describe it day I watched it, and I see my friend’s sneering face as her baby-sitter inexplicably bludgeoned us with its life lesson.
Hook isn’t a movie worth reclaiming in my memory. Blade Runner is though. As are a number of things that have been inwardly trounced by my writing about them too fervently and too openly on the Internet. The day I decided to expose my Tomb Raider fandom to the Internet is a day I will always regret, and one I’ve tried to consistently undo. One of the most difficult things about this job is that you are no one if you don’t share what you love. It is the rock of your credibility. I love that film. I love that actor. I love that soundtrack. I’ve researched them to the ends of their existence. I will share my passion with you. And you may ridicule and destroy it, and with it, my love of this thing.
It’s preposterous, of course. I often ridicule people for taking my opinions or criticisms too seriously — “If you loved Avatar, what the hell does it matter what I say? It’s like religion, be secure in your faith!” — and yet I have allowed the same to happen to me. Criticism doesn’t bother me, oddly enough, but a bad memory does. And a bad memory can be the time I was hideously sick watching a particular film, or I got into a rip-roaring fight with someone prior to going into the theater, or someone told me to shut the fuck up at a Blade Runner panel, or the day I exposed a corny obsession too eagerly.
I look at ordinary film goers — the people who plunk down money every weekend, seeing whatever is out, no awareness of who or what it is they’re watching — and I envy them. There has to be so much freedom in not caring too deeply about this medium. I’m sure they have their own version of this (a sports logo, perhaps, or a song) but I’m a little jealous of people who don’t carry so much cinematic baggage, or risk it with every day at work.
Yet if I was like them, I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be doing this. I wouldn’t know the agony and the ecstasy that is cinematic fandom, and I wouldn’t be sharing it with you. We’re here because we care. We’re weird (from a certain point of view) because we get so goddamn involved with movies. They’re bonded into our experiences. They are our life. And life comes with good and bad, so it only stands to reason that it colors our (or at least my) viewing experience.
And what does an overwrought (and as I read this, I fear this is what you will think) person do? Wait for a good memory to come along and recapture the film for you? Simply hope the pain lessens with time?
I don’t know. But I really want to watch Blade Runner again without a salted slug stomach.
19 comments
That was beautiful. Thank you.
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With all due respect, I saw a picture of you dressed up as Lara Croft and there isn’t anything corny about how beautiful you are in that outfit.
As for the subject at hand, I bet writing this article helps you move past that experience. I had to eat a similar box of salt while watching War of the Worlds. Some gangbangers seated a couple of rows behind me were cussing at the screen and they didn’t like how I whispered, quote: “Please be quiet.” They got up (5 of them plus a “girl” that looked like she’d been fed pitbull all her life) and they did their monkey dance with all the gang posturing and one of them yelled, quote: “Niggah shut the fuck up bitch o’ I’m gonna fuck yo faggot ass!” I remember this verbatim because my (dumb) reflex was to point out that fucking my ass suggested they were gay whilst being unhelpful in determining my sexual orientation.
Needless to say, they didn’t understand half of the vocabulary or the syntax so they did what bullies always do when their brains can’t compute: they got more verbally abusive. I (briskly) walked out; afraid I was going to get shot in the back. Had a security guard not been within 30 yards of the theater door, I’d have a sadder, more painful ending to tell. A couple of them followed me out, you see.
After that, I started packing mace to go to the movies. I think we can all agree that it’s stupid to feel compelled to do so but I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit those kids scared the shit out of me. The really did. So for a long time, when I’d see a poster or a mention of that movie, my brain would fantasize about going Bruce Lee and breaking them in half. I’d get all worked up. It’s not exactly healthy.
It’s been a while now and I don’t carry any pepper spray when I go to the movies anymore. What I do have is the number to the box office of the theaters I frequent. I’m happy I thought of collecting them. Some time later, a similar story happened to a guy seated several rows in front of me. I dialed that number and reported an imminent fight. Management sent their security in there right quick. I don’t know why but it helped with my whole thing. Hell, writing this did too. Thanks.
Aw, man… I apologize to all readers for that formatting stuff up there. ^
Don’t paste from MS Word, folks!
As a little boy, I remember having the theatrical experience of “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” ruined for me when the lid to my soda came off and I spilled it, ruining my brand new Indiana Jones t-shirt. Then I went to the restroom to clean up, and I was raped.
I was on a plane watching Fellowship Of The Ring, the Mine Of Moria sequence. Suddenly there was this extreme turbulence and the stewards were running around and I thought “Shit, we’re going down!” Now I can never watch that sequence without feeling distinctly queasy. Than a lot Virgin fuckin’ Atlantic!
That’s a great story Elizabeth. I’m sure we’ve all had terrible film experiences where the films themselves are ruined thanks to thoughtless people in the audience. As pointless and bland a film as The Patriot is, it depresses the shit out of me as the film was the last time that my dad went to the cinemas (he’s not dead, so hopefully it won’t be the last time) and throughout the whole film there was a guy sitting in front of us yelling every so often “Go Mel! Do it for your country!”. Dad tends to fall asleep in the cinemas, and he somehow managed to stay awake for the whole film, so it depresses me that the last film he’s seen at the cinemas was ruined by a stupid git.
Zodiac was nearly ruined for me when the girls I was sitting next to started laughing in the scene where the couple are getting stabbed in the back near the lake. I gave them a filthy glare and said, “do you mind? This really happened!” To which they stopped laughing and shut up. I like to think they apologised at the end of the film to me, but they disappeared before it finished. Still… nearly a film breaker.
Elizabeth – I love these styles of posts. I have always loved reading other peoples screening stories – whether it’s a great film or a bad film or something that happened at the film which just stuck with you. Like the time I went to see Irreversible and saw the film reviewer for the local newspaper (Perth is a terribly small city) there with a younger girl. Being a bit forward I asked him what he thought at the end of the film – he responded by saying he’d seen the film before and thought it was good, but his daughter – who the younger girl was – hated it. That has always slanted my view on him – how do you take your daughter to a film like Irreversible? I digress.
Keep up the great work!
Your revelation reminds me of Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs. The writer starts his book by saying each chapter is a rambling of a particular subject he thinks about as he lay in bed at night trying to sleep.
I think I found my new favorite column. I’ve had flicks ruined for me before, or rather, associated with poor or bizarre memories. Getting a handy during “Speed 2: Cruise Control”, showing my bisexual girlfriend “Chasing Amy” (thus ruining the film for me forever after our horrible breakup), this group of large women and their screaming spawn coming in late to “A Night At The Museum”, and making so much noise, and being shushed by everyone in attendance, myself included.
Am I the only one that thinks this article is championing film subjectivism and discrediting the author’s credibility as a critic? Everyone has negative experiences at the movies–I would argue those occasions happen with greater frequency now more than ever. I have a cousin that waits for video now; it’s not worth the hassle to ruin his experience. On the other hand, I just don’t tolerate it. I get in people’s faces, yell across the theater and, as well, politely ask the person next to me to put their phone away. Blaming a movie based on a bad experience is the same as not eating spaghetti anymore because you vomited it up once when you were nine. Fims, and spaghetti, should be based on their independent merit not your crappy memory of it. I’m also not advocating the lack of opinion from the viewer but critique the film not where you watched it. I’ve had to view movies two or three times to get a fair opinion, especially if I was distracted. I respect that you had to write something to fill this article, but anyone can write an editorial about a bad movie-going experience. Get over it and move on.
A CHUD prescreening a couple of years for LAND OF THE DEAD has great memories for me. Me and my friends went to see this. I don’t exactly remember why but the situation was either see this CHUD screening or BATMAN BEGINS. We chose LOTD. The movie has it moments but ultimately nothing memorable and any time you spend watching it you could be watching either of the DAWNS. However whenever I watch it I smile because I’ll always associate that movie with the front of the theater (the fanboys) being seperated from the back of the theater (the local newspaper reviewers). The back of the theater was into it and yelling shit at the screen while the back hissed. Then Tom Savini made his cameo………THE FRONT HALF WENT BAT SHIT. The back half? They got so annoyed some actually asked people to calm down, we didn’t. After the screening some back halfers (heh) were being snotty outside and one said in the funniest WASP way of saying anything: “Why did everyone just go banannas when that one zombie with the machete starting maiming people?” The front halfers who heard this ridiculed him and walked on.
Noww LOTD always makes me smile and like it more than it deserves due to this experience. Any ATL patrons remember that one?
Discrediting the author? I dont see once in this article how she critiques any of the films because of the bad experiences. She is merely talking about external events affecting how she feels while watching some of those films. Like the dude with the WotW issue with the gangbangers, not a critique of the film, but a film ruined.
To paraphrase Sam Strange’s Jurassic Park: “Life gets in the way.”
I actually quite enjoyed this article. Everyone’s got their own baggage when it comes to watching a movie; a great movie can be made bad just by the circumstances surrounding it, and vice versa. I’m glad that you’re sharing these experiences with us! Keep up the good work!
I think this was an interesting article. It makes you think about some of your own experiences. It is not a review of any film, just the experiences associated with watching a film. Nicely done. Oh, and Elisabeth, please share the picture of you dressed as Lara Croft.
Very astute and honest writing, and this subject transcends movies. “Real-time” experiences often enhance (or, in this particular case taint) our emotions when enjoying art – music, movies, paintings, poetry. Anything creative designed to tug at us is, for better or worse, often influenced by what’s happening at the moment we’re taking in said creative work.
The only thing I disagree with is your comment “Criticism doesn’t bother me, oddly enough…” I’ve noticed you’re fairly thin skinned when it comes to the idiots who often go out of their way to insult your work. You’re better than that, as your writing proves over and over.
I didn’t mean that criticism doesn’t bother me on a personal level — I meant that it doesn’t affect my viewing of something, as opposed to people who have written me screaming that my negative opinion of a given film ruined it for them.
And actually, criticism doesn’t bother me so much as bad behavior, and I like calling them out on it as much as possible. It gives me great satisfaction. You’d be surprised how many of them apologize once you tell them they’re an asshole.
How interesting you would use Blade Runner as your first example. I, too, along with some chums, went to see the BR re-release in theaters a few years ago. During the movie, these two guys in front of us (who both reeked dangerously of booze) decided to be real men and have one seat in between them, but still shout comments to each other during the movie. At one point, my buddy leans forward and very politely asks them to not talk during the movie. One of the guys proceeds to shout “DO SOMETHING! DO SOMETHING” to him, as if my buddy has just suggested the man go fuck his mother. Granted, while that experience hasn’t ruined the film for me per se, when someone says “Blade Runner”, my mind thinks: “asshole.”
I love Blade Runner, I feel bad for you. The only thing that will really work is to see it again, at a theater. For some reason watching at home isn’t enough. Luckily Blade Runner is shown fairly often on the revival circuit. I had Wild Bunch ruined for a few years, saw it again at a great 70mm screening, erased the previous experience.
Lis, great artical! I deff. have a few momorable movie going experiances. Not all bad and not all ruined. Return of the Jedi (1st run/ 80’s, at the Highland Theater in Highland Park, MN): I had to go to the bathroom. My dad said I was “big enough” to go by myself and that he would wait outside. I went in and stood at the first urinal. Within moments a slightly older kid came in and stood next to me. As I’m trying to pee, this dumbass kid starts telling me he has a knife and keeps asking if I want to see it. I told him no at least 3 times before he pulled out a Swiss Army Knife and held it to my neck. “you like my knife?”….”No.” I said and then I proceded to take the knife from him and tossed it into the urinal I just used and walked out. Once out of the restroom my Dad asked what took me so long. I explained to him that the kid that just came out and pass us had pulled a knife on me and held it to my neck and that I took it from him and tossed it in the urnial. My Dad being rightfully shocked, grabbed me and we headed back into the theater to get my Mom and baby sister. Once we collected the rest of the family we went to the ticket booth and informed the Manager as to what happened. My family and I along with the theater manager walked up and down the isles with flashlights until we found the kid and his family. The manager promptly informed them what had happened between their son and I and just as promptly kicked them out. And of course while all of this is happening….I’m missing Carry Fisher in “Slave Leia” garb. So, now every time I watch “Jedi” (which is NOT often) and it’s getting to the Jabba barge sceen with Slave Leia…I always think of that incident. “Logans Run” might be the only movie that is “kind of” ruind for me. It’s always been a favorite. I dated a “Jessica” for about 4 years. Seeing as my girlfriend was “Jessica” and the main female characters name was “Jessica”, I decided to show my Jessica the movie. My Jessica ended up being very mentally unstable and very intolorable to be around. I’ve watched “Logans Run” once since her and I broke up back in ’03. I deff. don’t enjoy it as much as I used to as I am reminded of a shitty ex-girlfriend and a relationship that lasted years longer than it should have. Per Jessica’s Facebook, she is still very much a fan of “Logans Run”….damnit!
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation is ruined for me: we realized that my mom’s purse had been stolen right as the cat was under the couch dying from eating Christmas lights and electricity. Lame.
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