So I'm not feeling today's topic. Instead, let me tell about Inglourious Basterds. Please do not pay to see this movie. Don't even pay to rent it. If you really feel like you have to see it, wait until it comes out on DVD and one of your friends buys or burns it. Really.
I walked out in the first scene. It starts with one of the Landa character interview scenes that Tarantino got way too much praise for. Much like rest of the movie, it was drawn out beyond any reasonable limit in the vain hope of amping up the tension. I didn't feel the need to sit through it, so I went out to smoke. I'm thankful I did. The film flashes back to the only important part of the scene later (if you do watch it later, this means you can skip ahead guilt-free), and going outside allowed me to witness something far more amusing.
I get that the Alamo pretty must closes up shop after the last screenings begin, so I double checked with the staff that it was okay if I stepped outside and propped the door open with my shoe. As always, the staff were totally nice about it, and one even agreed that he hadn't liked the movie either.
So there I am, standing in front of the Alamo South Lamar smoking and wearing one sandal, when she stumbles up. Oh, she's real classy. Early/mid forties, dyed brown hair, WHITE SLACKS (a crime against everything), and heels she probably had an easier time in three glasses of wine ago paint as accurate a picture I can give you. So, she hollers my way mid-stumble, telling me that I'm staff so I must be able to let her in. Why do people always assume I'm working? I'm not very comfortable now, because she's obviously drunk and the theater is closed. Unfortunately, it's my shoe propping open the door. After explaining to her that I'm not staff, theater's closed, they aren't going to sell her a ticket,etc., I remove my sandal and let her in. I wasn't left with much of choice seeing as she was determined to get in, I didn't work there, and my plans for Saturday night did not include getting bulldozed by a forty-something drunk in WHITE SLACKS while only wearing one shoe.
In drunkie goes. From just outside I can hear the whole exchange. She should have been at the theater an hour ago to meet her friends, but she was taking the bus, so it's not her fault. No, she doesn't know what movie they were going to see, no she can't reach them by cell (they're in a movie), and she is supposed to get a ride home with them, so she can't leave. The staff are nice, but firm, and after a lot of huffing and puffing she asks if she can use the bathroom. We can all see drunkie's thought process as she walks down the hall. At about this time, I come back inside and apologize to the staff. They are again super nice, and joke with me about she's about to get kicked out for sneaking into a movie.
We walk around the corner, and there she is: waving her arms, stomping her feet, shrilling like a grackle. "I demand to speak with your manager!" she squawks. The staff member walking with me smiles and raises his eyebrows at me before picking up his pace. I walk by laughing and on into the theater, where I will be bored and disinterested for at least another hour.
How sad is that? WHITE SLACKS drunkie was the most interesting thing about going to see Inglourious Basterds.
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