D O T Y B L O G      

This will be one of the blog entries that virtually guarantees I'll never be a candidate for anything again, because the petty snark will demonstrate my "great disdain for the common folk" and reinforce the elite intellectual snobbery so often associated with me and others of liberal ilk. That said, I want to extend my heartfelt gratitude to the nice people who shared today's 1:55 showing of Mr and Mrs Smith with me today at the Medford Cinemark.

My first hint of the trouble ahead should have come with the Dukes of Hazzard preview, when Jessica Simpson first appears as Daisy... the row of adolescents in the middle back of the theater offered their audible approval of this casting choice, with whistles and a "YEAH!!" The cultural appreciation bar seemed to be set fairly low.

I left for a quick restroom break during the next preview and returned just as a trailer began featuring singing, along with actors known to us unwashed masses who only see performances on the Tee Vee or the Moving Pictures as being from The West Wing, Law & Order, Josie and the Pussycats, and Adventures in Babysitting.

As "Seasons of Love" carries us through the whole trailer - sometimes very realistic like someone made a movie set in New York, sometimes clearly staged like someone made a movie of a play. All very cool. Five Hundred Twenty Five Thousand Six Hundred minutes... likely a larger number than my theater-mates can comfortably conceive... I nudged my companion, as the trailer started, "I bet we're the only people in this room who know what this is for..." 2 minutes later, as the 8 'specials' fade out on the main cast on stage, and the name "Rent" fades in atop the screen, my Daisy Duke lovers in the back offer the gem "What does that mean?"

The little voice in my head offered, "It means you are woefully undercultured."

I should be so lucky that exposure to award-winning theater would be the only societal training this group lacked. They also apparently missed the etiquette course on "Movie Theater does/does not equal Living Room"

The arpeggiated sound of an electronic device - either a text message alert or cell phone game, or gameboy was a regular occurance from about 20 minutes into the film. Chinese firedrill reseating at a few random intervals was OK, too. And they really liked to talk. And take flash photos (cell phone again?). Exiting the exhibit space and asking for theater staff help did nothing - I never saw any staff re-enter the theater.

I think the movie was fun. If any of the offending youngsters wants to make sure I actually get to see it, feel free to donate the $10.50 my date & I paid for THIS viewing, and we'll catch it again.

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