the past and future of
craigerscinemacorner.com
dr. filmlove
OR
HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE SILVER SCREEN
a new forward by CrAiGeR
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May 26, 2009
Not so long ago in a galaxy
very, very near....I reached a point when I knew that I was in love with the movies.
My affair with the silver
screen really cemented itself in the spring of 1999.
Yes, I certainly had an undying appreciation for the movies
beforehand, but one event in particular really ignited my status as an
unadulterated junkie of the cinema. After
this point, there was no proverbial turning back, no get out of jail free
card, and no pass go and collect $200.
Lame Monopoly metaphors aside, this allows for me to let the sweeping, nostalgic-filled memories overcome me. I was a reserved, unassuming, and modest filmgoer in the spring of ’99 – as well as a young, indomitable, spirited, and hopelessly naïve 22-years-old just finishing his second year of college (yes, I was a late bloomer for post secondary studies). Now, it was rather atypical at this time for me to rush to the theatre in a feverous, infantile glee on opening night to see any film, but there was one in particular that was coming out that I and many a fanboy were hungrily waiting for…at least for 17 years.
I’ll give you a hint: it has the words “phantom”,
“menace”, and a big, flashy, Roman-numeral number one in it.
It’s more than safe to say
that this film created galactic-sized eagerness in film fans.
Reports were flooding the radio airways and TV news screens about its
impending release and images from the film were all over what was the then
virginal mass communications and information gathering device known as the
“internet.” Everyone knew this film was coming out. It was scheduled to be released in May of 1999, but tickets
for the film were going to go on sale at the local theatre here in
Saskatoon a whole month earlier. That
was unprecedented.
I had a whole squadron of
friends and confidants that wanted to go, but, alas, only myself and one
equally determined and loyal friend were willing to go and line up with
all of the other (now, how did the lay public refer to us as?
Oh yes...lunatics) in order to secure tickets required to be able to
see the film – for sure – on opening night.
Now, tickets were going on
sale that afternoon at 5pm, as far as I can recall.
We had heard local reports that some small legion of fans had
already camped – yes, 'tis true, camped – out the night before right in
front of the multiplex in order to get tickets…or at least have bragging
rights to be the first to get them. Now,
my friend and I were certainly not willing to give up our night jobs to
“camp” over night in tents on the bustling city streets of downtown
Saskatoon, but we decided to do the next fanatical extreme: we would
arrive at the theatre at least six hours ahead of time.
I will never forget what
follows.
We arrived and – heaven help
us all – there were indeed at least a dozen tents filled with gnarly,
five o’clock shadowed, and clearly unhygienic twentysomethings that had
slept by the theatre over night for a chance to get tickets (having spoken
to one of them, he incredulously revealed that he had been camping there
for not one, but two nights!). Behind
the Depression-era-like small tent community was what appeared to be several hundred people,
all in line, which stretched back as far as my disbelieving eyes could
see. After a few minutes of
walking down the line – seeing the mass of coked out of their minds on
sugar and caffeine movie-holics – my friend and I made it to the end of
the line, which was a mere two blocks down the street.
The following several hours
was not just a mind over matter battle of waging war on impatience,
boredom, and dealing with all of the mocking and scornful glances of the pacing-by motorists, but it was also a fierce, Joseph Conrad-esque battle
over nature and the elements. This
egregiously long lineup and wait time would become my own heart of
darkness. The white, fluffy
cumulous clouds that graced the skies swiftly turned to ones that degraded
into several shades of
deep, dark, haunting grey…and then the rain came down.
Thankfully, my friend and I came as prepared as any would if they
were going to the most secluded forests of Northern Canada for a weekend
of backpacking: we had slickers, food (granted, of the junk variety), magazines, and large umbrellas.
The rain would come and go, and the only thing that kept me
resolute and optimistic was that – in a few short hours – I would have
the Holy Grail that was my movie ticket.
Hindsight is 20/20 (damn,
you…hindsight!). Looking
back on that pathetically dreary, cold, and oppressive day has left me
feeling somewhat conflicted. The
people I have told this tale to look at me afterwards like I just
fornicated with a barn animal. I
mean…really…what in the hell was I doing there?
Just consider: I
waited in line for several hours in the pouring rain, managed to easily
nab my tickets (we later discovered that they added several more opening
night shows to the venue for a film that I could have easily seen the day
after opening night with minimal fuss, which, as crazy as it
sounds, I ended up doing!). Even more head-scratching is the fact that
the film in question was, by many peoples’ initial views and current
recollections, was not very good, nor was it hardly worth the enormity of
my waiting in line in a torrential downpour for a chance to see it.
Okay.
Here’s the point. Sorry
I took so long to get here, but sometimes longwinded exposition helps.
The thought of seeing that
film gave me an unadulterated and indescribable natural high.
The thought of seeing it opening night led to whole other stages
of frivolous, restless, and wired-up-beyond-all-recognition natural highs.
When I got there in line and waited…and waited…and
waited…soaking wet and malnourished (six packs of Coke, Twizzlers, and
bags of five cent candy are not proper nourishment) I still had a
sensation prevail over me – like an unstoppable force – that I was
waiting to get the opportunity to see a film that I have been lusting
for…and for nearly two decades.
When I finally made it to the
cinema…friends in tow…surrounded by hundreds of other salivating
fans….and that curtain finally – fiiiiiinnnaaaaalllly – raised…I
knew that I was in a state of ethereal audio-visual nirvana.
I had found my Valhalla…and for only a $10 for admission fee.
And that’s when I knew I
truly loved the movies – the anticipation of going, the journey to, and
the final experiencing of the event. It's a sensation that -
sometimes the same, whereas other times muted - I feel for just about
every filmgoing experience that I have had since..
CrAiGeR’s Cinema Corner is now reaching its 5th ANNIVERSARY this July and it dawned on me that the previous forward for this site was – gasp! – four years old. As a result, it prudent to write a new one, but rather than dryly rehashing why I started the site (which you can read HERE), I thought that I would provide some justification to my readers…justification as to why I spend so much of my own money and many countless hours (hours that I will never, in any real way, get back) in the confines of a large, darkened room with hundreds of complete strangers for the sake of this site, which pays me a rather unprofitable fee of…zero dollars. When the site began rather modestly and crudely in the summer of 2004 I had posted a mere two dozen reviews. At that time I thought that it would be a miracle if I had the will to publish 100 reviews within the next several years.
I have, as of this month, eclipsed 600, something that I, without any reticence, maliciously brag about whenever I can. I am proud of that feat.
How much further will I go?
But as for now...why do I do this?
Why…it’s love actually.
Call me a hopeless romantic, but there is no other revelatory justification.
Either that, or - just as those eyebrow furrowed motorists that passed me years ago while waiting in line for STAR WARS tickets felt about me - I am completely nuts.
I prefer the former extreme.
C r a i g J . K o b a n
Film Critic, Owner, Designer, and Operator of
c r a i g e r ' s c i n e m a c o r n e r . c o m
email: darthcraiger@shaw.ca
