My Movie Misadventure

After weeks of anticipation, I finally got around to seeing The Hunger Games this past weekend. 


Well, I didn't so much "see" it as manage to be in a theater while it was playing. In what has to be the most absurd set of movie-going circumstances ever, I managed to find myself seated next to a loudly snoring individual and in front of  a group of the biggest morons this country has to offer. Between the two, I managed to see/hear very little of the movie and, as such, I have absolutely nothing to report. Nothing. I can't comment on disappointing costumes (CGI fire? Really?), the poignant or wooden acting (Amandla was très sweet but Kravitz should probably stick to music) or the extra scenes (Seneca got his just deserts but I will forever mourn the loss of that awesome beard). Instead, most of what I remember consists of loudly resonating snores and obnoxious comments from the peanut gallery.


It began like any other auspicious cinematic jaunt. I bought the tickets early; I made sure to arrive before the previews; I bought popcorn and nachos (I like to dip my popcorn in the nacho cheese; blood-pressure and cholesterol be damned); and I settled in for what was supposed to be the highlight of my long weekend.

Things started off well. There was no popcorn in my cleavage or cheese on my shirt; and I was busy ogling Gale and noting how Katniss finds the infamous Mockingjay pin in the Hob (instead of receiving it as a gift from Madge) when I heard the first snore. Apparently the 10:45pm showtime was a little too late for my companion (who shall remain nameless). It was fairly innocuous at first and - as I was sure that no one else had noticed - I simply gave a little nudge and a whisper. Five minutes later, the snoring resumed. And got louder. Loud enough to draw attention up and down the aisle. Before long, I was spending more time throwing elbows and whispering profanity than keeping up with the movie. Which was when the peanut gallery chimed in.

Right around the time that Katniss was getting ready to drop the tracker jacker nest onto the Careers (lots of impenetrable jargon for you non-fans), the humanitarian sitting behind me began narrating the film for any visually impaired members of the audience. She also started off relatively quietly, but perhaps she couldn't hear herself over the snoring because she too got louder and louder. Eventually, only the grinding of my teeth could drown it all out. Still, I couldn't help hearing her declare "Ooh goooood! Them jeps go real sting dem up!" and "Is lizard she eating easy-easy so?" and "Buh what is that noise?" <--- It was the sound of a parachute waiting to be claimed; something that was revealed onscreen not 3 seconds after this genius decided to poll the audience.

Lest you think I'm the kind of person that sits quietly by and allows such an imbecile to ruin my $45 movie-going experience, please note that I'm prone to asking class clowns like her to "please shut the f*** up, I'm trying to watch the g**damned movie and - in case you haven't noticed - you're the only jack*** braying in here right now." Yes. I've done that. More than once. In more than one country. But I couldn't do it this time? Why? Because my buddy was busy sawing every damn log in the Hunger Games arena. How could I tell them anything when we were getting our fair share of dirty looks ourselves?

So I sat there. Boiling. In between desperate efforts to stop the snoring, I contemplated just walking out and leaving my slumbering friend behind. But that would've been mean. Not to mention a waste of time and money. Plus, I didn't have a ride home. So I counted the minutes until the closing credits and vowed never to go anywhere with this person again.

Aside from an ill-timed joke about revenge for all the elbows, we still haven't talked about it. It's just ... too soon. Every time I see a reference to the movie I feel a little sad. Guess I'll just have to wait for the DVD.

And maybe I'll stay home next April Fools.