Took the boys to the movies today. What did I see? The picture is a clue. Can you tell what it was?
Here’s another clue.
And the final clue:
I could not pass up “The Princess Bride” on a big screen, even if the theater was an hour and a half away. I saw it in the theater when I was 14, but I didn’t have it memorized from hours of study back then. This time around, I could quote along. So could everyone else in the theater. And we pre-laughed at all the jokes, much to the confusion of Boy9. “What are they laughing at?”
When you watch movies on the big screen, you catch all sorts of little details you just can’t see on the little screen. For example, when I saw The Sound of Music on the big screen, there were three extra Von Trapp kids you don’t even notice on the small screen. (Yuk, yuk, yuk.)
I wish they showed old musicals in theaters again so we could all sing along. I’d love that! “Doe a deer, a female deer, ray a drop of golden suuuuuuun….”
Then again, when I saw The Sound of Music, no one sang along, so maybe no one would sing.
Oh, I know why they didn’t sing! It’s because The Sound of Music was shown in the Historic Senator Theater. The people who went to the Historic Senator Theater (which is closed now, last I heard), were too refined to sing along.
If you want to have fun at a theater, either go to the midnight showing of a movie with the diehard fans, or go to the unclassy part of town.
For example, I went to see Air Force One in two different theaters. Air Force One is about bad guys who hijack the president’s (Harrison Ford) plane. The bad guys are shooting hostages. In the end, Ford tells the bad guy, “Get off my plane,” and pushes him off the plane.
In the Historic Senator Theater with all the refined people, there was no reaction to the movie. Everyone sat in their seats, silently eating their popcorn (refined people know how to do that), making no eye contact with strangers, quietly filing out when the movie ended.
But in the Westview Theater, with the unrefined people, it’s a whole ‘nother world. Audible gasps when the hostages get shot, with a few Oh-no-he-didn’ts thrown in. Cheering and clapping when the bad guy was thrown off the plane. It’s like being at a sporting event. I used to make a point of going to the Westview Theater, just for the audience reactions.
I saw Titanic at the Westview theater. Lots of people saying “Ouch!” when that poor guy hit the propeller. (How come that’s the one part everyone remembers? The guy falling off the side of the ship and “Clang!” into the propeller. “Ouch!”) Lots of open crying at the bittersweet ending. “Near, far, whereeeeeever you are..” Titanic’s coming out again this summer in 3D. Let’s all go together and all warble along. I’m sure the other viewers won’t mind…
For fun, here are the opening paragraphs to the book The Princess Bride. I adore the author’s writing style:
“The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette. Annette worked in Paris for the Duke and Duchess de Guiche, and it did not escape the Duke’s notice that someone extraordinary was polishing the pewter. The Duke’s notice did not escape the notice of the Duchess either, who was not very beautiful and not very rich, but plenty smart. The Duchess set about studying Annette and shortly found her adversary’s tragic flaw.
Armed now, the Duchess set to work. The Palace de Guiche turned into a candy castle. Everywhere you looked, bonbons. There were piles of chocolate-covered mints in the drawing rooms, baskets of chocolate-covered nougats in the parlors.
Annette never had a chance.”
Isn’t that an awesome beginning?! Draws you in from the first sentence. It doesn’t begin with stupid descriptions of the scenery. I hate it when books begin with the scenery. If I ever write a book, I promise you that it won’t begin with descriptions of scenery.
Here’s an example of a very bad beginning to a book:
“The Jeb les Zubleh is a mountain fifty miles and more in length, and so narrow that its tracery on the map gives it a likeness to a caterpillar crawling from the south to the north. Standing on its red-and-white cliffs, and looking off under the path of the rising sun, one sees only the Deserts of Arabia, where the east winds, so hateful to the vine growers of Jericho, have kept their playgrounds since the beginning.”
I’ll bet you didn’t even read the whole paragraph, did you? And if you did, you probably already forgot what it was about. Bad, bad beginning. I’ve tried to read that book 3 times, and I just can’t. It’s Ben Hur. I’ll just watch the movie.
Here’s the opening of the book I’m reading now:
“It rained toads the day the White Council came to town.”
That’s a good opening line. I’ve been enjoying the book.
Here’s the start of a Sherlock Holmes story:
“Holmes,” said I, as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down the street, “here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone.”
I love that beginning. “It seems rather sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone.” That could be reworked into a really good insult. I’ll have to remember it and use it on someone some day.
Westley: I’ll explain and I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon.
Prince Humperdinck: That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me.
Star Trek Stat:
Number of shirtless men: 2. Kirk and Spock.