The world and its mother have reviewed I Am Legend over the last couple of weeks, so instead I offer you a review of the guy sitting beside me in the cinema yesterday evening. He was spread out across my seat when I arrived, scratching his balls through his shiny white tracksuit. Great. Just the type I want to sit beside for a potentially scary film.
I'm an awful chicken when it comes to scary films. I don't mind gore in the slightest. Violence? Bring it on. But jumpy bits? No fucking thank you. I'll watch them happily at home during daylight hours with a cushion and the lights on but the cinema is a different story, because everyone can see you jump. I went to see Sunshine a few months back and when the lights went up at the end, the man sitting beside me turned, genuinely concerned, to see if I was okay. Mortifying. I felt confident that the gentleman to my right last night would show no such concern and would instead roundly take the piss out of me, perhaps by shouting "boo!" and grabbing my arm at tense moments. I curled into my seat and balled my coat up in my lap, ready to use it to shield my face from the scary monsters. The film started and his running commentary began.
My shiny-tracksuited and itchy-testicled friend turned out to be the best antidote to a jumpy movie that I've ever found. He'd start to twitch visibly every time the atmosphere in the film became tense and then to talk to/at Dr. Robert Neville (our on-screen hero) offering him sound advice on how to conduct his affairs in a manner that would not see him eaten by vampire zombies. "Don't go in there... don't go in there you fucking dickhead... just leave the stupid dog! Fuck... It's a trap. I bet you that's a trap. See, that wasn't there earlier so it must be. Fuckin' spa. Shouldn't have done that." The SWF was getting very angry at the occasional chatter coming from the two guys in front of her (she sssshhed them loudly, the ballsy lady!) but I was tickled pink with my guy's antics. The film itself was a disappointment but he made it for me. I hear the original novel rocks so I might read that some day, with a cushion and all of the lights on.
I'm an awful chicken when it comes to scary films. I don't mind gore in the slightest. Violence? Bring it on. But jumpy bits? No fucking thank you. I'll watch them happily at home during daylight hours with a cushion and the lights on but the cinema is a different story, because everyone can see you jump. I went to see Sunshine a few months back and when the lights went up at the end, the man sitting beside me turned, genuinely concerned, to see if I was okay. Mortifying. I felt confident that the gentleman to my right last night would show no such concern and would instead roundly take the piss out of me, perhaps by shouting "boo!" and grabbing my arm at tense moments. I curled into my seat and balled my coat up in my lap, ready to use it to shield my face from the scary monsters. The film started and his running commentary began.
My shiny-tracksuited and itchy-testicled friend turned out to be the best antidote to a jumpy movie that I've ever found. He'd start to twitch visibly every time the atmosphere in the film became tense and then to talk to/at Dr. Robert Neville (our on-screen hero) offering him sound advice on how to conduct his affairs in a manner that would not see him eaten by vampire zombies. "Don't go in there... don't go in there you fucking dickhead... just leave the stupid dog! Fuck... It's a trap. I bet you that's a trap. See, that wasn't there earlier so it must be. Fuckin' spa. Shouldn't have done that." The SWF was getting very angry at the occasional chatter coming from the two guys in front of her (she sssshhed them loudly, the ballsy lady!) but I was tickled pink with my guy's antics. The film itself was a disappointment but he made it for me. I hear the original novel rocks so I might read that some day, with a cushion and all of the lights on.
