No, this isn't a post declaring how God-awful the movie version of Eclipse was, or how smexcellent the Harry Potter movies are. (Both are facts, by the way. Not opinions. Facts.)
I was thinking about this last night because, you see, I watched a horror movie about a month ago. I will not reveal the name of this horror movie because it's rather embarrassing in its, er, non-scariness. But if you know me in real life, you know that I don't do horror movies so well.
Case in point: That horror movie I saw a month ago? I still make my dog come with me anywhere around the house when it's dark outside.
The interesting thing is, I can handle books way better than movies. For example, I read The Shining all at once in my basement (it was really hot and the air conditioning was broken) at night by myself, in seventh grade. When I was done, I was a little creeped out, but I was pretty much fine. (No, Firefox, I was not "crept out".)
Or another example. In sixth grade, I read every single Dean Koontz book the library had to offer. This included violent scenes involving the rearrangement of limbs, rapes, weird... things, and so on. Apart from making me a stranger person, I was more or less unaffected.
And I've written fairly violent things, too. I don't go into very gory detail because I write YA, but I've had to read articles that were extremely gory (with pictures of blood so fake I had to laugh) for research, and the details I leave out, I still have to imagine.
But show me a movie where there's a drop of blood and I'll have to look away. In the first Twilight movie, that scene where Bella was bleeding or something? (She "fell down the stairs".) I looked away.
Why is it that movies are more powerful than books? Is it because we can see it and hear it more directly? But if this is the case, then why do many people prefer reading to watching movies?
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Big Dudes Are Interesting
No, wait, don't "x" out this tab. This post has a point.
First, while this is rather random, it must be said that a couple minutes ago, I started to read this article about how the Internet makes us lose our ability to concentrate on things. This is more or less what I was thinking as I read: "Hmm... gee, that's pretty scary... this is probably really over-sensationalized... I doubt the Internet does all that... yeah, this is probably exaggerated... okay, I'm bored, I'm gonna go update my blog now."
And then it hit me.
Anyway, onwards with the post-y part of the post!
A couple days ago, I was watching a movie with a friend. Of course, this was a very, er, mature movie. Not, like, a little kid movie *nervous laughter*. I mean, I would never watch something like Toy Story 3.
Okay, fine, I was. And it was good. You should see it.
The fact that we were surrounded by squalling babies and stressed mothers was a little irritating, but soon, I was so caught up in what was happening to Woody (get your mind out of the gutter!), I could almost not hear the piercing shrieks of red-faced babies or the vomit pooling on the floor. Almost.
Suddenly - at a very suspenseful moment, I might add - the movie went black. Black, like my teacher's shriveled heart. Black, like the heaving, glistening flanks of Black Beauty. Black, like the night, cold and dark and lonely, lost and afraid in a world where there is no love, no affection.
And then, shrieks to rival that of the babies'! It was the alarms, screeching and flashing, and lights exploded in the room. I screamed and covered my melting eyes. "The lights! The lights!" I yelled. "They burn!"
A nervous male voice came on. (Seriously? A nervous voice? They couldn't do, like, a really hot, sexy, smoldering voice? Can voices even smolder? For that matter, do eyes smolder? Let me talk to Ol' Eddie about that.) "Attention, people. Especially that super-annoying girl who keeps yelling about the lights. There is a fire. We are all going to die. So just calm down, please. And avoid the flames. And smoke."
I looked around. There were no flames. There was no smoke.
My friend poked my arm. "We should probably leave."
I noticed that we were pretty much the last people in the theater. Everyone else had swept up their sobbing babies and flung themselves outside. We got up, glancing at the source of the nervous voice, and quietly filed out of the theater. Screams echoed in the vast caverns of the building.
We looked at each other. And giggled.
When we made it outside, we discovered why people were screaming.
It was friggin' hot.
The sun didn't pound the pavement, or sent tumultuous heat waves across our faces, or any other fancy schmancy metaphor. It just shone, like, really bright. I could feel my skin turning to soot.
Sun-burned soot, of course.
The parking lot, sidewalks, and roads were filled with people. Jostling mothers, weeping men, starry-eyed lovers - you name it, they may or may not have been there.
A stampede of people came out from the 3D version of Toy Story 3 (which my budget did not accommodate, hence our being in the 2D version). They let out wild war cries and didn't push people; they walked straight through. I laughed as they trampled over my friend. When she stood up, I noticed several cuts on her body.
"Would you like a tissue?"
"Yes, I would. I would very much like a tissue."
And so I gave her tissues for her cuts. This was the first time in my life that my mother let me out of the house without band aids (I usually have to bring them "just in case"). She did, however, supply me with tissues, in case I'm in mortal danger and I need to blow my nose. Also cotton balls, if a serial killer holds a knife to my throat and I perhaps want to squish something soft.
When the crowds had more or less calmed down, all you could hear was the sour stench of sweat sizzling sordidly in the air. (See what I did there?) A young employee - who was also not hot, sexy, or smoldering - stood in what was approximately the center of the crowds. "Um... this was a false alarm, guys. But we can't go in just yet. When we can, though, if you want a refund, go to blah blah blah blah blah blah blah want to watch the movie, it will pick up where it left off blah blah blah blah blah blah blah make sure blah blah ticket stubs."
That's what I heard, anyway. I turned to my friend. "What did he say about ticket stubs?"
She was lying on the road, blood pooling around her. It hurt my neck when I tried to talk to her. How inconvenient.
"I think," she rasped, "he said we have to have our ticket stubs to continue watching the movie. I have mine." She opened her clenched fist, revealing a blood-soaked tissue and a ticket stub.
I rooted around in my bag. Nothing. I tore my pockets off my jeans and looked in those. Nothing. I checked my secret hiding place in my shoe, moving aside the switchblade and gun. Nothing.
Then I flash-backed.
I was walking inside the theater for Toy Story 3, ticket stub in one hand, drink in the other. My friend make a pitiful joke, and I humored her by laughing. As I did, I reached up a hand to brush a strand of hair away. The ticket stub fluttered from my palm to the ground... forever lost... never to be seen again....
"Well, crap." I scratched my nose. "Whatever. I'm really hot. Wanna go in the shade?"
"Can't... move...." my friend croaked. "Go on... without... me...."
"Kay," I replied, inspecting my nails.
Then I violently shoved my way through the tightly packed sweaty bodies, screeching, "Police! Police!"
Unfortunately, even the police can't get past the actual police, who harrumphed at me.
"Harrumph to you, too," I muttered.
A Big Dude was next to me, whining. "And they'd better give a refund! I WANNA REFUND! And a unicorn. If they don't gimme a unicorn, I'ma throw a tantrum! WAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
He began to throw a tantrum. I harrumphed at him.
"Oh, look, now they're harrumphing."
I pushed past him.
"And pushing."
Just as the wonderful shade swallowed me, a police guy shouted, "All right, guys, c'mon inside!"
The crowd surged forth, and I raced to the ticket guy. He was overwhelmed with angry people shoving their stubs in his face, and I slipped past the crowd.
By the time I reached my rightful theater and sat down, Toy Story 3 had begun. I munched on my friend's popcorn and wondered where she was. By the time the movie ended, all thoughts of rescuing her were gone, and I went home.
So, did any of you see any good movies recently?
First, while this is rather random, it must be said that a couple minutes ago, I started to read this article about how the Internet makes us lose our ability to concentrate on things. This is more or less what I was thinking as I read: "Hmm... gee, that's pretty scary... this is probably really over-sensationalized... I doubt the Internet does all that... yeah, this is probably exaggerated... okay, I'm bored, I'm gonna go update my blog now."
And then it hit me.
Anyway, onwards with the post-y part of the post!
A couple days ago, I was watching a movie with a friend. Of course, this was a very, er, mature movie. Not, like, a little kid movie *nervous laughter*. I mean, I would never watch something like Toy Story 3.
Okay, fine, I was. And it was good. You should see it.
The fact that we were surrounded by squalling babies and stressed mothers was a little irritating, but soon, I was so caught up in what was happening to Woody (get your mind out of the gutter!), I could almost not hear the piercing shrieks of red-faced babies or the vomit pooling on the floor. Almost.
Suddenly - at a very suspenseful moment, I might add - the movie went black. Black, like my teacher's shriveled heart. Black, like the heaving, glistening flanks of Black Beauty. Black, like the night, cold and dark and lonely, lost and afraid in a world where there is no love, no affection.
And then, shrieks to rival that of the babies'! It was the alarms, screeching and flashing, and lights exploded in the room. I screamed and covered my melting eyes. "The lights! The lights!" I yelled. "They burn!"
A nervous male voice came on. (Seriously? A nervous voice? They couldn't do, like, a really hot, sexy, smoldering voice? Can voices even smolder? For that matter, do eyes smolder? Let me talk to Ol' Eddie about that.) "Attention, people. Especially that super-annoying girl who keeps yelling about the lights. There is a fire. We are all going to die. So just calm down, please. And avoid the flames. And smoke."
I looked around. There were no flames. There was no smoke.
My friend poked my arm. "We should probably leave."
I noticed that we were pretty much the last people in the theater. Everyone else had swept up their sobbing babies and flung themselves outside. We got up, glancing at the source of the nervous voice, and quietly filed out of the theater. Screams echoed in the vast caverns of the building.
We looked at each other. And giggled.
When we made it outside, we discovered why people were screaming.
It was friggin' hot.
The sun didn't pound the pavement, or sent tumultuous heat waves across our faces, or any other fancy schmancy metaphor. It just shone, like, really bright. I could feel my skin turning to soot.
Sun-burned soot, of course.
The parking lot, sidewalks, and roads were filled with people. Jostling mothers, weeping men, starry-eyed lovers - you name it, they may or may not have been there.
A stampede of people came out from the 3D version of Toy Story 3 (which my budget did not accommodate, hence our being in the 2D version). They let out wild war cries and didn't push people; they walked straight through. I laughed as they trampled over my friend. When she stood up, I noticed several cuts on her body.
"Would you like a tissue?"
"Yes, I would. I would very much like a tissue."
And so I gave her tissues for her cuts. This was the first time in my life that my mother let me out of the house without band aids (I usually have to bring them "just in case"). She did, however, supply me with tissues, in case I'm in mortal danger and I need to blow my nose. Also cotton balls, if a serial killer holds a knife to my throat and I perhaps want to squish something soft.
When the crowds had more or less calmed down, all you could hear was the sour stench of sweat sizzling sordidly in the air. (See what I did there?) A young employee - who was also not hot, sexy, or smoldering - stood in what was approximately the center of the crowds. "Um... this was a false alarm, guys. But we can't go in just yet. When we can, though, if you want a refund, go to blah blah blah blah blah blah blah want to watch the movie, it will pick up where it left off blah blah blah blah blah blah blah make sure blah blah ticket stubs."
That's what I heard, anyway. I turned to my friend. "What did he say about ticket stubs?"
She was lying on the road, blood pooling around her. It hurt my neck when I tried to talk to her. How inconvenient.
"I think," she rasped, "he said we have to have our ticket stubs to continue watching the movie. I have mine." She opened her clenched fist, revealing a blood-soaked tissue and a ticket stub.
I rooted around in my bag. Nothing. I tore my pockets off my jeans and looked in those. Nothing. I checked my secret hiding place in my shoe, moving aside the switchblade and gun. Nothing.
Then I flash-backed.
I was walking inside the theater for Toy Story 3, ticket stub in one hand, drink in the other. My friend make a pitiful joke, and I humored her by laughing. As I did, I reached up a hand to brush a strand of hair away. The ticket stub fluttered from my palm to the ground... forever lost... never to be seen again....
"Well, crap." I scratched my nose. "Whatever. I'm really hot. Wanna go in the shade?"
"Can't... move...." my friend croaked. "Go on... without... me...."
"Kay," I replied, inspecting my nails.
Then I violently shoved my way through the tightly packed sweaty bodies, screeching, "Police! Police!"
Unfortunately, even the police can't get past the actual police, who harrumphed at me.
"Harrumph to you, too," I muttered.
A Big Dude was next to me, whining. "And they'd better give a refund! I WANNA REFUND! And a unicorn. If they don't gimme a unicorn, I'ma throw a tantrum! WAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
He began to throw a tantrum. I harrumphed at him.
"Oh, look, now they're harrumphing."
I pushed past him.
"And pushing."
Just as the wonderful shade swallowed me, a police guy shouted, "All right, guys, c'mon inside!"
The crowd surged forth, and I raced to the ticket guy. He was overwhelmed with angry people shoving their stubs in his face, and I slipped past the crowd.
By the time I reached my rightful theater and sat down, Toy Story 3 had begun. I munched on my friend's popcorn and wondered where she was. By the time the movie ended, all thoughts of rescuing her were gone, and I went home.
So, did any of you see any good movies recently?
