Dork in 3-D

Last night's 3-D Imax Beowulf was pretty cool.  I was not.  I'd gone to a screening of Beowulf earlier in the day, but they had technical difficulties and had to cancel it.  It wasn't a complete waste of time as I came away with a pretty cool pair of 3-D glasses.  They'll come up again shortly.  But in the meantime they kept me entertained while I sat in a mostly empty theater and waited for the projectionist to get the right code to download a digital copy of the movie.  That's right, even the guys at the AMC theaters are downloading movies so you BitTorrent people are in good company. 

I sat in my favorite spot, first row of the second level where I can put my feet up on the railing, and stared at the lights through my 3-D glasses.  The effect really wasn't that cool, but it's all I had going for me.  I'm pretty much the outcast amongst the movie reviewing crowd.  Everybody has their respected institution of media they belong to, except me.  I have my own fledgling company and there seems to be some discord with the other, actual journalists who think I'm invading their space.   There's even one super insecure prick from Boulder who only engages me in conversation so he can attack whatever I say.  Here's an actual example from last year:

Prick:  Snakes on a Plane is  getting so much buzz that the studio wants to recut some of the scenes.

Outcast:  Oh, darn, it's supposed to be bad.  I hope they don't make it good.  

Prick:  (Loudly to others)  You think buzz will make a movie better?  

Outcast:  (Trailing off to the futility of explaining in a storm of laughter)  No, you said the studio was going to....

I've never experienced being an outcast.  There was one time when Ronnie Redman and Becky Rich found me behind the giant truck tire we used to play on at school.  My pants were unbuckled and I was standing next to a steamy pile of poo.  They accused me of pooping on the playground.  I denied it, but there was much suspicion that led to my being pushed to the fringe of social acceptance.  But in a class of 20, in a town of 800, even the fringe is pretty much in the middle of things. So it's been hard to adjust to that role.  Although I do hang out with some of the theater employees and once got to watch part of In the Land of Women through the security guard's night vision goggles. 

After an hour of delay, and free coffee from a panicked publicist, the early media Beowulf was 86ed.  I went home to show Sarah the 3-D glasses.  They were show-and-tell worthy because they were actual glasses in the style of the Blues Brother's shades, not the flimsy paper ones that regular non-media outcasts have to use.  

Sarah was impressed, which is one reason why I love her so much--simple pleasures.  But when I got a call that there'd be another screening at night, I felt pretty thrifty having my own 3-D glasses to bring to the movie. 

Last night's screening was at the IMAX at Colorado and I-25.  Nothing represents better the white Satan of Capitalist over consumption than the IMAX.  It's a four-story movie screen placed about three feet from your face.  Last night it was packed.  People waited in line for three hours to get a seat.  The press reviewers get saved seats so I showed up at about the last minute.  Nothing causes tension amongst a crowd like when you walk past the line of people and side-shuffle your way through throngs wondering how come you get to breeze in and nab the best spot in the house.  Everybody suddenly becomes deputized theater law.  "You know that seat's for press?"  They yell at me as I get pull the masking tape and reserved sign off the chair.   And, I'm telling you, people get crazy at these things.  They're always over booked and just last week at Lambs for Lions I saw two elderly women shout it out over an aisle seat.  One time a lady sat on a guy until he moved.  The drama is often better than the movie.  The kicker is that the film is free, but everybody drops thirty bucks for popcorn and the Mississippi Delta of diet soda. 

With the theater packed, the publicist stood up front and announced that people should limit their getting up, and asked to make sure everybody had their 3-D glasses.  They did, including me, who'd earlier brashly passed the guy handing them out with mine already on my face.  Mine were even different than everybody else's.  One guy did make a point that lingered a bit the back of my head.  He queried, "What guy bring his own 3-D glasses to the movie?"  It did remind me a bit of the way-too serious guy with the mullet bringing his own ball and wrist brace to a casual night of bowling.  Or the guy who brings his own pool cue to a pub.

Although one lady commented how my glasses were much cooler than the shabby, yellow contraptions with the too-little nose piece that she and others had to wear.  I perked up.

Then, right next to me, sat the prick guy from Boulder.  I greeted him and he just chortled.  That's it.  He laughed at me and then sat down.  

Since he did the favor of ignoring me, it gave me a chance to glance around the theater.  I counted seats.  I was right in the middle.  This would be an optimal 3-D experience.  I didn't even feel a pee coming on.  I kicked back and got ready to enjoy.  Five hundred people in crappy yellow glasses and me in my cool black shades.  From above I'd look like the chosen one.

The intro piece was all gussied up for 3-D viewers.  People oohed and awed at the laser fx and all the cool things that I don't think I was seeing.  I took off my glasses and then put them back on.  Beowulf began.  The crowd went crazy as Grendl tore through a crowd of ancient merrymakers, ripping some limb from limb.  I only got dizzy and nauseous.  I took off my glasses again and scanned the crowd.  Everyone was enthralled with the action.  Some were cringing at the body parts flung into the audience.  I put my glasses back on.  

Nothing but a headache.  And then I was going to get sick.  Smack dab in the middle of the enrapt movie-gawkers I had to wrestle my way to the aisle.  People were like, "wow, it's so real," and "The monster just touched me!" as I stepped on and over them for freedom.  The Boulder Prick muttered something about "not getting the 'not getting up part'," and the publicist who'd just made the announcement had a look of horror on his face as I stormed towards him.  He was just getting comfortable in the last seat between me and the aisle.  

I made it to the the safety of the hallway and tossed my shades.  Luckily not my cookies.   

It turns out, you see, that not all 3-D glasses are made for all theaters.  I found some of the yellow ones in a box outside the theater and returned.  Another thrashing of everybody between me and my seat ensued.  

And I further ensured my role as full-color, three-dimensional outcast at future media events.   

Comments

[mark]

wait. why were your pants unbuckled?

that is a good story though.