I wish I could walk out of a movie (or a book, for that matter), but somehow I can’t stop, no matter how bad it is. I keep thinking, maybe it will get better, or will have all been worth it, or gosh darn it, I paid 98 smackers for my ticket and these 12 boxes of Milk Duds and this 132 ounce bucket of Diet Lemon-Lime-Orange Pizazz (with free refills!), and I’m going to sit through it if it kills me.
There was one movie I walked out of (or ‘out of which I walked’, for you grammar militants), but that was because I get motion sick whenever sloppily handheld cameras are employed to give it that “authentic” look, which in my opinion is missing the whole point of hiring a professional cameraman.
I think the movie was called Italian for Beginners, and it was a foreign film, which meant subtitles, which meant I couldn’t look away from the screen and merely listen to the dialogue. And if I can’t read a book while riding in a car, why would I be able to read subtitles while the cameraman refuses to stand still?
So I just gave up and walked out.
I couldn’t watch Blair Witch for the same reason.
Also? That Paul Williams documentary, Still Alive, which he is, by the way, was a problem recently.
And as much as I’m loving binge-watching Derek on Netflix, I’m having a little trouble there, too.
Is this the wave of the future? This nauseating form of recording? If so, why doesn’t Broadway install mobile stages in their theatres so that the cast is constantly flailing around like a ship in a violent storm, and vomiting overboard into the sea of season ticket holders, I ask you?
image via Wikimedia Commons