That STAR WARS Thing (2005 entry)
An evening OUT
Mira Mesa Edwards 18
It's "Star Wars" time again. The newest (Revenge of the Sith?) is only 3 weeks in the marketplace, and it was high time I join my frequent movie companions Brad and Dear Wife for a looksee. A special guest appearance was made by Brad's brother, and after a quick hello in front of the theater, we went to work.
CROSSING THE LINE
Dear Wife and I had seen "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" the previous day, and following this up with another EVENING OUT had me a little giddy. But blocking the entry to our “Star Wars” stadium screening room was a line of people awaiting entry to the 7:45PM “Mr. & Mrs. Smith.” More evidence nobody’s against a little wife dropping (see "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" review, assuming I've got it up). Many people had been waiting long enough to be sitting on the ground. “Star Wars III or VI” had no line, and we had no problem buying our tix a half hour ahead of showtime, walking into the theater (except that line for “The Smiths” we had to wade through) and finding some perfectly placed seats. There must be a lesson in this. Things filled up before we’d gotten through the absolutely interminable commercials, identical to the package foisted on us in Westminster the day before: car ads, bogus anti-commercialism youths making a bogus documentary to sell Coca-Cola (and yet I’d just downed a brace of refills at the nearby Rubio’s prior to showtime)—was this called “Ambition?”—y’know, the same crap they’re hosing down yr gullet when you go to a movie. Same “Westward, ‘Ho” TV miniseries promo, same Kyra Sedgwick interrogator promo. At my In-Laws’ house, they have a nasty white plastic device, its silhouette spade-shaped, but full-bodied, thick, like a cudgel: a handle on top makes it look like a stubby, blunt-tipped sword. What is it? I asked, examining a few slices and abrasions down on the business end. “It’s for forcing things down the garbage disposal,” they answered.
Oh.
The same two “Bewitched” promos, again one the real preview, one the behind-the-scenes number I had found so fresh and original the first time around. Now after it was revealed as a fiction of freshness, it just stinks.
FAKE REBELS
These ubiquitous commercials have the unfortunate effect of making the previews far less welcome, far more trying. Watching that “Fantastic Four” trailer again—I was a little boisterous, assuring Brad that no pre-school papier-maché projects were harmed in the creation of The Thing’s costume. I’d already told him that I wished I had a strong enough urine flow to douse the screen from our seats. Each time a new indignity would come on the screen I would feign aiming a firehose and make a whooshing noise. Dear Wife was unimpressed.
We were bludgeoned by “The DaVinci Code”—it physically hurt. But then the preview for “Mr. & Mrs. Smith:” interesting to see how they cut the footage together differently in the scene where they first cross swords as professionals. In the movie they do not know they are being double-crossed by their spouse—but the trailer has them explicitly identifying each other in this scene—and with different footage (the techno-scope close-up of Jolie, doing her best Lara Croft imitation) (much better than in the Tomb Raider movies, anyhow)—exclamation point!
IMPERIAL ASSAULT
GET THE GARBAGE CUDGEL
Mira Mesa Edwards 18
It's "Star Wars" time again. The newest (Revenge of the Sith?) is only 3 weeks in the marketplace, and it was high time I join my frequent movie companions Brad and Dear Wife for a looksee. A special guest appearance was made by Brad's brother, and after a quick hello in front of the theater, we went to work.
CROSSING THE LINE
Dear Wife and I had seen "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" the previous day, and following this up with another EVENING OUT had me a little giddy. But blocking the entry to our “Star Wars” stadium screening room was a line of people awaiting entry to the 7:45PM “Mr. & Mrs. Smith.” More evidence nobody’s against a little wife dropping (see "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" review, assuming I've got it up). Many people had been waiting long enough to be sitting on the ground. “Star Wars III or VI” had no line, and we had no problem buying our tix a half hour ahead of showtime, walking into the theater (except that line for “The Smiths” we had to wade through) and finding some perfectly placed seats. There must be a lesson in this. Things filled up before we’d gotten through the absolutely interminable commercials, identical to the package foisted on us in Westminster the day before: car ads, bogus anti-commercialism youths making a bogus documentary to sell Coca-Cola (and yet I’d just downed a brace of refills at the nearby Rubio’s prior to showtime)—was this called “Ambition?”—y’know, the same crap they’re hosing down yr gullet when you go to a movie. Same “Westward, ‘Ho” TV miniseries promo, same Kyra Sedgwick interrogator promo. At my In-Laws’ house, they have a nasty white plastic device, its silhouette spade-shaped, but full-bodied, thick, like a cudgel: a handle on top makes it look like a stubby, blunt-tipped sword. What is it? I asked, examining a few slices and abrasions down on the business end. “It’s for forcing things down the garbage disposal,” they answered.
Oh.
The same two “Bewitched” promos, again one the real preview, one the behind-the-scenes number I had found so fresh and original the first time around. Now after it was revealed as a fiction of freshness, it just stinks.
FAKE REBELS
These ubiquitous commercials have the unfortunate effect of making the previews far less welcome, far more trying. Watching that “Fantastic Four” trailer again—I was a little boisterous, assuring Brad that no pre-school papier-maché projects were harmed in the creation of The Thing’s costume. I’d already told him that I wished I had a strong enough urine flow to douse the screen from our seats. Each time a new indignity would come on the screen I would feign aiming a firehose and make a whooshing noise. Dear Wife was unimpressed.
We were bludgeoned by “The DaVinci Code”—it physically hurt. But then the preview for “Mr. & Mrs. Smith:” interesting to see how they cut the footage together differently in the scene where they first cross swords as professionals. In the movie they do not know they are being double-crossed by their spouse—but the trailer has them explicitly identifying each other in this scene—and with different footage (the techno-scope close-up of Jolie, doing her best Lara Croft imitation) (much better than in the Tomb Raider movies, anyhow)—exclamation point!
IMPERIAL ASSAULT
GET THE GARBAGE CUDGEL
posted by Davis Chino at 10:19 PM
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