Monday, April 5, 2010

Don't Get High . . .

. . . off your own supply.

Saturday we hosted our second movie night. This time, we gave our guests a choice on which movie to watch:

It's time for another round of movie night at (redacted).

I'm going to put it out there - nothing will top The Room. Nothing. In trying to figure out a movie that could ween us off the Wiseau, I narrowed it down to two before my brain went all Eric Roberts on me.

So you get the choice of what you want to watch. Read through the brief synopses and if you think you can join us, post your preference. Majority rules, unless we decide otherwise.

As always, drinks will be cold. Prizes will be raffled. Snacks will be had.

Battle Royale (2000)

Based on the novel of the same name, Battle Royale is set in a world where the Japanese government is on the brink of collapse. To maintain order over the youth, a seventh grade class is armed with random weaponry, thrown onto an island, then forced to kill one another. If you've just read this last sentence, then you know why this movie was never released in the US. At once, it's an intense allegory for the competitive job market while also being one of the most comically-violent teen movies ever. (Its influence on Kill Bill is obvious. Right down to the casting of Chiaki Kuriyama, best recognized as The Chick with the Mace.) Director Kinji Fukasaku went to his grave knowing that his movie deserved as much international acclaim as that same year's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. And to be honest, he was right.

121 min., starts at 9:00PM

Wizard People, Dear Reader (2004)

"We were at a bar and were getting a good laugh at a guy who was playing pool all by himself while wearing a hoody over his hat, sunglasses under that and headphones on the outside of all of it. So we started riffing on "What could he possibly be listening to?" Someone who I don't think was me said he was listening to a book on tape of Harry Potter. And out came the Wizard People narrator. I joked that night that I was going to rush home and record an entire misinformed book on tape of The Sorcerer's Stone, due to the fact that I had not and have not ever read any Harry Potter books."

What underground cartoonist Brad Neely did was record an entire audio track synchronized to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Read in the hoarse voice of a coarse narrator, Wizard People, Dear Reader was circulated online and quickly developed a cult following as a sort of non-musical equivalent to Dark Side of the Moon. Even if your official stance on Harry Potter is like mine ("Fuck that noise.") there's enough in Wizard People to bring Muggles and whatever Potter fans call themselves together.

152 min. plus intermission, starts at 8:30PM

As usual, we overstocked on booze and Easter candy, leaving a spread which mirrored that of a Tri-Delt rush.

I really enjoy hosting these gatherings for a couple of reasons. Movie snobs, like music snobs get off on introducing people to something new. It's like setting up friends on a date. There's a pleasure in being involved in someone's first viewing of The Room, or the amazing animated short Rejected which prefaced Saturday's screening. To us, it's about getting out fingerprint in your brain somehow.

We had two winners. Battle Royale and Jameson.

Spread across two rooms, The Girlfriend and I watched with guests in the living room while the others watched on the projector in the once dining room - converted into movie room shortly after I put my name on her lease. Someone in the living room had the brilliant foresight to turn Battle Royale into a drinking game. Everytime a kid is killed with a headshot, we took a shot. Only he and I played. There were 41 kids in the class.

By the second reel, I had to excuse myself to step outside a few times. Pulling out my cigarettes to feign a smoke break, in reality I was throwing up behind the building. I could hear everyone laughing and cheering at the screen as the back patio was lined with the bright puke made up almost entirely of pastel colored candy. I felt like a girl at prom in a bathroom stall - dabbing away at the menstrual blood caked to her dress while her peers dance, unaware she's missing. When I returned the third time, I dropped the charade and went straight to the bathroom where I passed out on the top sheet. The sounds from the other rooms drifted in through the walls. With the exception of birthdays - there's a certain shame in passing out at your own party. A show of irresponsibility. If anyone here should be sober, it should be you - the host. You're one of two people who knows where everything is and is the only person who knows how you connected this shanty town of a cineplex.

Worse, The Girlfriend was now in charge of hosting the remainder of the event. With the last of my sober mechanics, I made sure to properly tear off the raffle tickets and leave them in the cowboy hat from the night's draw. The prizes were:

1) A bottle of Dragon's Milk - in theme with Wizard People
2) A bottle of Sake, in theme with Battle Royale
3) A copy of The Room soundtrack - in theme with amazingness.
4) One jar of Baconaise Lite - for obvious reasons.

I think I woke a few times to the sound of laughter before tasting the vomit clung to my teeth then fading back to black.

In the morning, The Girlfriend filled me in on the night's events and how everything went smoothly in my absence. She even stayed up after the guests left to clean. So I wake to a sparkling apartment, a bitter taste in my mouth and the need to drink a gallon of water. It was like the night before was a fever dream.

I realize that the only way to save face for the next screening is drink even more and show everyone that I can still maintain.

This is how legends are born.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

In all fairness, by the time prom hits, girls know what's up with the insurance man, and don't find themselves crying over a ruined dress. That's more like middle school homecoming. If you're invited, that is.