Subject:    Re: Why I don't like stadium theaters
From:       Innfinit@ix.netcom.SPAMBLOCK.com (Captain Infinity)
Newsgroups: alt.cult-movies,alt.fan.tom-servo,rec.arts.sf.tv,rec.arts.sf.movies
Date:       Sat, 03 Jan 1998
Message-ID: <34b5ba2e.23622749@nntp.netcruiser>

In article <68jvpa$fqv@knot.queensu.ca>
De Castellvi Jaime M wrote:

>But Cineplex Odeon now throws a neat stunt during the previews.  At first
>it looks like a terse preview to an action-suspense flick.  The chopper
>lands atop the building, the young, dare-devil specialist leaps out in
>black commando tights with his briefcase and gets an update by the fully
>armed soldiers standing guard.

Meanwhile, Spider-Man (clinging unseen to the North side of the building)  peeks
over the edge of the roof.  His spider-senses are jangling.  There is DANGER
nearby!  Just as he is about to swing himself up onto the roof he notices an open
window in the building across the street.  In a bizarre occurrence of
instantaneous comic-book-universe crossover mayhem (probably due to the efforts
of Marvel bankruptcy lawyers) he suddenly develops telescopic vision.  He zooms
in on the window and spies a nubile nineteen-year-old female exiting her shower,
wiping the water off her glistening skin.  He says to himself "Screw the danger"
and shoots.  A web, that is, across to the opposite roof, and swings away.

Meanwhile, the briefcase specialist concludes the special debriefing.

>"Ok, let's do it!"  Grim-faced, marching heroically as if to face his own

Mother-In-Law visiting on the day of a forgotten anniversary (he'd rather face

>death, he gets the final brief on-the-go about the nuke device he has to

bring home to the wife, along with a gallon of milk.  But first he has a bomb to

>disarm, which will instantly launch into an unstopable 15 second 

performance of "It's a Small World" in brain-melting hypersonics, following the

>count-down at the mere hint of a sound louder than a whisper.  He seals

driveways for a living, what's he doing here? he wonders.  Shrugging, he locks

>himself into the room alone, open the briefcase -which activate a notebook

containing all the scribbles and cartoons he drew in Math class.  He powers up a

>computer through which he communicates with his budd- and connects the

"modem" plug into the "phone" jack. Silently cursing his stupidity, he snaps the

>leads from it to the device, plugging his buddy's remote access.  Buddy

tries to make a joke about an "unlisted banana", but Rose-Marie slaps him and

>punches a couple of keys... "OK, the *green* wire, you have to cut

through the rind to get to the sweet fruit inside.  Or maybe we should peel it

>first..." Terse close-up of plyers approaching wire, shakingly closing on 
>it, cutting it...
>Visible relief and relaxation for sweat-drenched specialist and buddy, who
>gets him started down the homerun, "Good, OK, now cut the *yellow* wire
>and we can pack up the show..."  Smelling success against all odds now,
>incredibly, within easy reach, the specialist reaches in, the plyers start
>to close around a yellow cable...

The cable begins to twitch, as if listening to some private Ska tune.  The men
all step back in apprehension.  Mulder steps halfway in front of Scully, as if
to shield her with his body.  She looks up at him with a mixture of annoyance at
his sexist behavior and gratitude at his concern.  Emotions flow swiftly across
her face, and then dribble down her neck to join the puddle in her blouse.
Rose-Marie steps forward, shouldering the men aside, and yanks the yellow wire.

>And a loud, obnoxious beeping sound suddenly irrupts.

Suddenly everyone can hear the tune the wire was jerking to;  it's not Ska, it's
Laurie Anderson's "Home of the Brave" (specifically, "Credit Racket").

>Frantic close-ups of specialist and buddy.  <sp> "What the hell is that
>sound?"  <bud>  "It is a cellular phone... it came from the *audience*".
>
><sp>  "The AUDIENCE...?!"

Everyone in the audience starts to shift uncomfortably.  In the eleventh row,
Jaime de Castellvi and Robert Holland interrupt their perpetual squabble over
who gets to sit in the aisle seat, and glance up at the screen.

>Unstoppable countdown gets triggered by beeping sound...
>
><bud>  "Oh, my GOD!"
>
><sp -incredulously->  "What kind of a JERK leaves his cell phone on during
>the movie?!"

In the fourth row, center, Laurie Anderson stands.  She throws the finger at the
screen.  The people in the row behind her gasp at something she says that cannot
be heard by the rest of the audience.  She stamps down her row, stepping on feet
and shoving aside knees.  A small blond woman squeaks in pain, and her large and
macho boyfriend rises to his feet.  Anderson solidly plants a low blow, and he
sinks back into his chair making noises like a balloon animal quickly deflating.

>Grim close-ups of specialists and buddy's faces in growing horror,
>alternating with run-away countdown.  Final stop-heart close-ups of grim,
>faces bracing in panic.  Countdown reaches zero.  Whole screen goes
>white...

Anderson reaches the aisle.  She grabs a hot dog from the hands of Franklin
Hummel, who has been sitting quietly, enjoying the whole spectacle.  He mumbles
"Huh?" as she turns, screaming "Philistines!" and she flings the hot dog at the
screen.  It flies through the air, arrow-like, landing dead-center, splashing a
four foot area with mustard and relish.  The wiener falls quickly, but the bun
sticks for a half-second before making a slow moist slide down the screen.  As
it reaches the edge and falls off, the white screen now seems to have imprinted
on it the image of a grotesque yellow and green flower, complete with stem.

As Anderson leaves the theater, several Oompa-Loompas appear from doorways
hidden beside the screen and begin washing it down with Formula 409 and
long-handled squeegees.  Within seconds the mess is cleared away, and the screen
is again as empty as AL4028's cerebellum.  An old and scratched still-picture
slide is projected on the screen which says "If you must chew, please use the
spittoons provided."

>... and gets replaced by a billboard with words to the effect of "Don't
>blow up the movie.  Please be courteous and turn off cellular phones and
>beepers prior to the start of the performance.  Enjoy the movie!"

THE END.

** 
Captain Infinity


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