Leave a movie early, come home with a blog entry

A few days ago, Matt Zoller Seitz asked his readers what films they've walked out of in the theatre. This is a practice I've never made a habit of*, for several reasons. First, I think I have a pretty good sense of what I'll like, so most movies I pay for are at least decent. Second, there are very few completely worthless movies out there, so now that I'm no longer getting paid to watch the really wretched KING'S RANSOM-level junk I stick to movies that contain at least one or two redeeming features. And finally, most of the time that I pay for movies I'll watch two back to back, and it almost always follows that it's the first movie that sucks, and so I'll stick around anyway in order to wait for my second movie. If all else fails, I'll take a little nap- most multiplex seats are comfy enough to use for this purpose.

Naturally, there have been exceptions. I walked out of CREMASTER 3 after an hour back when it played to a sold-out house at the Wexner Center a few years ago. Having slogged through 1 and 2 earlier that week, I figured I'd give Matthew Barney one more chance, but I found the first third of 3 pretty rough going. Add to this the fact that I was pretty dead on my feet and that the old Wex seats are pretty much un-sleepable, and I had little keeping me in the theatre.

Other than that, the only times I've walked out of movies have been due to technical difficulties. And whereas I could never bring myself to ask for a refund or a pass because I walked out for quality-related reasons, I have no problem getting reimbursed when it's the theatre's fault. And though the former projectionist in me resents slightly the idea that accidents should be blamed on the theatre, the ex-manager in me is more pragmatic. People come to movies to be entertained and to watch a movie as it's supposed to be shown- clear picture and sound, and no interruption. If the theatre doesn't deliver, whether it's from something they could have controlled or not, it's their responsibility to make it right, or at least as right as they can**.

Tonight I went to see THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP at the Drexel Gateway theatre near the OSU campus. From the beginning of the film the sound was having issues. While it sometimes sounded fine, at other times the audio was muffled as though someone had submerged the speakers. My guess is that there were problems with the Dolby Digital soundtrack on the film and certain channels were cutting in and out as a result. What I saw was certainly diverting enough, but after about twenty minutes I decided to split. I informed the projectionist on duty (I hope he was grateful that a customer who sort of knew what he was talking about was complaining for a change), got a pass from the box office cashier, and left.

The evening then took a somewhat odd turn. As I was driving toward the exit of the Gateway parking garage, a car suddenly backs out into the passenger's side of my car. I didn't even see the car pulling out of the space until it had nearly hit me, and by the time I leaned on the horn, it was too late. Fortunately for all, the other car was backing out slowly so no immediate damage occurred, and I just pulled forward about twenty feet (to let the cars behind me pull around), got out, and made a quick inspection. The only thing I could see was a few small scratches***, but when you live in the city and your car is a dozen years old a few scratches are hardly cause for alarm. So when I completed my inspection and the other cars had pulled around, I walked over to the other car to inform the driver that everything was okay.

The first thing I noticed was that the other driver was more nervous than I was. This seems to be fairly normal in my experience- whenever a minor mishap transpires, more often than not the person who is to blame tends to take it more harshly than the ostensible victim. The second thing I noticed was that the driver was female, and a pretty cute one at that. Remarkably for me (given my nervousness around attractive female strangers) I kept my cool and explained that there was no real damage, but she was still pretty shaken up by the whole thing. Finally she decided to give me her telephone number in the event that I did find anything later on. I accepted, had her write the number on the ticket stub, and then we parted ways.

I've never really subscribed to the philosophy that states that everything happens for a reason. I mean, most of the time when I see some illustration of this in a movie I'll roll my eyes (hello, SIGNS!). But I couldn't help but ponder the odd turn of events tonight- first, leaving a movie, which I almost never do, and then getting into that little mishap in the garage. There's not really any "what if?" involved- being the way I am, I would have left the movie regardless of what it was, simply because I've been spoiled by good presentation too long and too often to accept subpar. Still, most nights in my life happen exactly as I expect them to, and it's kind of refreshing to have one I couldn't have predicted.

In addition, even back in the garage I was fighting an odd compulsion to ask this girl out. She was attractive, as I've already said, and of college age, which is younger than I generally go for, but certainly not too young. And I found her anxiety over the situation more than a little endearing. Of course, I resisted asking her out then and there, seeing as how it would have been (a) pretty sleazy of me to prey on her guilt over the incident, and (b) awkward conversationally to broach the subject ("yeah, don't worry, the car's fine, wanna get a drink?"). But ever since she gave me her number I've been wondering if I shouldn't try to call her up anyway. She didn't give me her name along with the number, so it would still be awkward, but much less so than it would have been right then and there. But what would I say?****

So, as I seem to be doing more and more of late, I ask you guys- should I ask her out? Is it sleazy to do something like this, or simply an unconventional way to get my foot in the door?

* Hell, I don't even leave a movie to go to the bathroom unless I really have to go, I'm not really into the movie, or I've seen it before.

** I once had a customer who became angry with me for cancelling a movie for technical reasons. I would have considered rescheduling the show and moving prints around but it would have been nigh-impossible from a logistical standpoint, and besides it was our lowest-grossing movie- but she wouldn't accept that. Come on, be reasonable in my opinion.

*** The scratches were pretty miniscule- nothing compared to the fucked-up paintjob on that same side where I scraped it against a yellow-painted concrete pylon when taking a corner too close at the Columbus Main Library, or especially compared to the place on my hatch where some dickless piece of shit keyed it.

**** Here's a possibility- "Hello, my name is Paul, and you may remember that we had a little auto-related mishap in the Gateway garage a few days ago. I've taken a closer look at the car and I just wanted to reassure you that the damage is pretty much negligible. So in case you were feeling nervous about it, don't worry. Everything is working just fine. If you have any questions or you need to talk to me for whatever reason, my number is xxx-xxxx. Hope to hear from you. Thanks a lot, bye."

My cat allergy notwithstanding...

I started this blog a month or so ago to serve as a more diary-like alternative to the comparatively journalistic pieces on my movie blog. However, as film plays such a key role in my life, the two are hardly mutually exclusive. So while the film reviews/remarks of the "XXX was awesome/sucky and why" variety will still be posted over there, occasionally a film will elicit a deeper personal reaction above and beyond an aesthetic one, and such reactions will be posted here. Such was the case with Chris Marker's THE CASE OF THE GRINNING CAT (2004). I think that we can by now accept that Marker's works will almost always be awesome, and this one certainly was. But I somehow doubt that most viewers' extra-filmic responses to this were as profound and striking as mine.

Full disclosure: I've dreamed of living in Paris ever since I was young. Ever since I got into art and music and I began taking French classes back in middle school, there has always been something inviting to me about Paris. It wasn't even the romanticized "City of Light" mystique sold to audiences by Hollywood. I've never really bought into all that- seemed too tourist-y for my tastes. No, what struck me was the city's richness of culture and history, both of which Paris wears proudly on its sleeve.

Not even a spring break trip in high school could dissuade me from my dreams, although it certainly tried. For my first couple of days in Paris, I was travel-sick, not least because of the physical adjustment to the unfamiliar time schedule. But once I stopped barfing, Paris was more attractive to me than ever. While many of my classmates rushed around from landmark to landmark trying to cram in as much sightseeing as possible, I took my time to explore the city itself- exploring the streets, walking through the parks, riding the Métro, drinking in the architecture. "All that other stuff could wait," I thought. "I'll see it next time."

What THE CASE OF THE GRINNING CAT made me realize above all was that what I find so alluring about Paris isn't simply the art and the culture, but the passion that the city represents. In Paris- or Marker's version anyway- political activism is as strong as ever. Too often in the USA political involvement means letters to the newspaper or a bumper sticker reading "F the President." But lest we forget that the root word for "activist" is "active." Marker shows us hundreds of people taking to the streets to demonstrate for causes that mean a great deal to them.

As so often happens, where activism goes, so follows art. It was around the time I fell in love with Paris that I also concluded that the sixties were infinitely more awesome than the eighties or nineties, and in retrospect I'm not sure that was a coincidence. So much of the cultural contributions I consider great from the late sixties sprang directly from the social and political unrest of the period. Art doesn't exist in a vacuum, after all. Given our current climate one might think such a countercultural quake might have happened again in this country, but thusfar it hasn't- certainly not to the extent it did back then.

However, this spirit seems to be alive and well in Paris, which seems now more than ever to be the place for one goes to live passionately. And passionate living has been in short supply in my life of late. Unlike the whiny-ass heroes of THE LAST KISS who yearn to escape from a future that's staring them in the face, I can't begin to guess how my future could possibly pan out. I'm guess that this is because I have so little going on in my life in the present- obviously, or else I've have more to post about here, right? Ever since I graduated from college (five years ago... yeesh) I've been in kind of a holding pattern, waiting for something to come along and change my life. Even theoretically this is a lousy strategy- see also: Newton's First Law of Motion. So maybe a drastic change in venue, and the infusion of passion it could bring, is exactly what I need in my life.

So what's holding me back? Not too much, to be honest- no significant other, no kids, no long-term career path to speak of. I do feel the need to stay close with my family, especially my grandparents (all are still alive, and the youngest of them is 87 years old). But beyond that, it's mostly the practical concerns that worry me. To begin with, I haven't taken a French class in a decade, so I'd really need to brush up in order to be comfortable enough to move to France. This wouldn't be too big a hurdle, since I could always take evening courses and my parents have always been willing to support my educational endeavors. The trickier part for me would be finding a source of income in Paris. Sure, I might get an initial rush from living in Paris, but once that begins to wear off I'll have to eat and pay the rent.

So I beseech you, my small but devoted readership. What do I do? How do get to where I want to be? Is there anyone out there who has any experience along these lines, or who could steer me toward someone who has? My fear is that by not pursuing these I'll end up living my same lifestyle indefinitely, and years down the line I'll be bitter and frustrated by having put off my dream for too long. Even if I go to Paris and end up hating it, at least I'll have made the effort, and that in itself could be valuable. And if I love it as much as I think I will, well, all the better.

War reparations

In the "do you know where your money is going?" department, a coworker sent this to me the other day:

"This was published in Money Magazine this month and has been confirmed by the IRS's hotline. Save this information for your 2006 taxes:

Little known fact: To help finance the Spanish American War, the US levied a 3% tax on long-distance phone service.

Littler known fact: Until recently you were still paying it.

Well known fact: The war ended in 1898.

After 108 years of peace with Spain, on your 2006 tax return you'll be able to claim a credit for the past three years' worth of taxes.

HOW TO COLLECT: The IRS will offer two options for claiming a refund. The standard amount, which requires NO documentation, will be around $50 (the average tax paid over the past three years). If you spend hours gabbing with someone two states away and want to claim more, scan old bills for the "Federal Excise Tax" line item. Detailed information will be available when the 2006 tax filing season begins."

Normally I'd comment, but I think this speaks for itself...

Knee-slappers #1

The scene: a wire transfers department at a banking office.

Two men sit in adjoining cubicles, Wire Guy and Paul. A woman, Loan Lady, walks up to Wire Guy to inquire about a wire transfer.

Loan Lady: Has that money come in for me yet?

Wire Guy: Not yet. I’ll let you know when it does.

Loan Lady walks over to Paul.

Loan Lady: How about you? Do you have my money?

Paul: No, they don’t trust me with money. They’re afraid I’ll burn myself.

*Rimshot

Loan Lady didn’t appreciate my brand of humor. At least Wire Guy enjoyed it.

You'd think they were checks...

In the almost five years I’ve been a Netflix member, I’ve only had one DVD get lost in the mail on its way to me. Considering I probably get about ten DVDs a month from them, that’s pretty good. But in the last month, all that has changed. Three DVDs they’ve mailed to me have never arrived. I reported the first one and received a replacement, but I’m reluctant to report the other two yet- three lost DVDs in one month will no doubt set off alarms in their minds- for fear they’ll suspend my account. Needless to say, I don’t want this to happen. Netflix is pretty handy, as most of you know, and I’d rather not lose it, especially over something that really isn’t fault. It’s not like I neglected to pay my bill.

What should I do about this? So far I’ve verified my new address with Netflix, I’ve inquired at the local post office, and I asked my parents whether they’ve received any of them by mistake. So far, no dice. Has anyone out there had any similar experiences involving the US Postal Service? If so, how did you handle it and did it work out in the end?