Everyone I know had already seen it, so I decided to see it by myself. Call it an artist date. And anyway, seeing it alone allowed all the more room for me to indulge the fantasy in which I bed this man:
Rowr. So one sunny afternoon in January I betook myself to the ArcLight Pasadena for an afternoon at the movies. I went to Pasadena because I wisely waited until it was barely in theatres anymore. I mean, I wouldn't want to look like I was in a hurry, right? That's unfashionable.
The weather was good for a trip to fantasyland: Shame was showing in a smaller theatre and there was only one other person there, so I could imagine I was in a private viewing room. But it started to cloud over when five or six more people came in right before the show started, all of them at least 25 years older than me. This last part surprised me, because I just don't imagine the middle to old aged population of Pasadena getting excited over an NC-17 movie about sex addiction. But who am I to judge?
As the ArcLight girl started giving her pre-movie spiel I was really excited. I'd heard nothing but good things about Shame; I was looking forward to one of those movie experiences where the film you're excited about meets (or surpasses) your expectations. And then the storm broke. A seriously old couple came in late and chose to sit (you guessed it) two seats down from me. Picture these two this husband and wife who've been married since the Great Depression tottering carefully down the aisle, using the seats on either side for support because they don't have canes even though they need them. Their backs are hunched with osteoporosis, and their fingers are gnarled from arthritis. I'm not joking about this, they had to be in their 80's at least. And they wanted to see Shame. Okay.
As they were walking in the girl was talking about the movie and the theatre, and the old said super loudly, "What?" The ArcLight girl paused, but she just kept going. I probably would've too. Then the old lady turned to me, "What did she say?" (You know that special volume reserved for half-deaf octogenarians...) before turning back to the girl and saying, "We can't hear you! Do you have a microphone?" An awkward silence fell over the theatre, but ArcLight girl gamely continued trying to tell those of us with hearing about the emergency exits. The old woman, who was by now seated, chimed in, "Yap yap yap." Storm warnings in fantasyland.
As the lights dimmed my elderly neighbor, who was parked in front of the railing, said to her husband, "Mario! Mario! Put ya feet up Mario!" Beyond this, however, the start of the movie went pretty smoothly. Right around when Carey Mulligan was introduced the middle aged lady on the other side of me got up and left. But that's her choice, you know? Better she should leave than put weird vibes out, and I knew this movie wasn't for everyone. Better than the old folks to my left, who punctuated the film with noises of disgust like, "Phawwww!" Fantasyland was now closed due to inclement weather.
At a crucial moment (spoiler alert, sort of) Mario's wife said (more like hollered), "Did somebody try to murder her or what?" and I could hear the judgement in her voice. She thought Carey Mulligan's character deserved bad things to happen to her. When the movie was over Mario's wife let the whole theatre know in her loudest proclamation yet, "Awful movie!" Big surprise, they hated it.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised about my viewing companions, because who goes to 4pm movies on a Wednesday? Old folks and kids. And no way was anyone bringing a kid to that movie. I loved it though. If you're a fan of American Psycho you'd like Shame. I mean, you've already seen it of course, because I'm reviewing a movie that was released five months ago, but if you hadn't seen it I'd say go. But leave your grandparents at home.
Thank you for your thoughts. But I still will not be seeing this movie.
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