Reviews from the booth...Sophie Scholl

It's time again, children, for another 'review from the booth'...the column in which I -a projectionist at a small independant theatre- reviews for you - the breathlessly awaiting audience- films that come through. The twist is that I don't always get to watch the whole thing. Ha! Isn't that just the darndest?

What's special about today's edition is that I probably saw a combined time of one minute of the movie I played on Friday night: Sophie Scholl. The reasons had nothing to do with the actual movie...well, other than one of them is that the movie looks so serious and informative that I didn't want to watch it while working, I want to watch it when the theatre is someone else's responsibility so I can concentrate. Another reason is that I was having a shift of hell that day and the place (as I mentioned before) is not fully air conditioned (I am impressively stinky by the end of my shift, let me tell you) and...AND I ran to the theatre to be there early enough to build the film hours before I played it. That last one is no big deal, really, 'cept that I hadn't built a film for a long time, it was my first time on the new system and I ALWAYS get g-damn nervous.

And now for the review:

It looks good.

I realized on Friday that I can often tell how good a movie is by the body language and facial expressions of the audience that is filing out. If we have a sad/poignant film, if it's good there's a few tell tale signs:

a/ the more people who do not get up during the credits and instead opt to stay in their seats out of respect for the film they just experienced and also to allow themselves time to get ahold of themselves...the better the movie.

b/ people who leave the theatre have a few different ways of dealing with re-entering the current and real world. Some people will stare straight ahead and wander out on their own accord. These people do not want you to ask how the movie was...they don't even want to make eye contact. Others need to talk to you. They need to discuss their thoughts and feelings.

All this is not unlike the reaction to a small real tragedy. In a good movie, THAT'S what you're looking for.

For Sophie Scholl...THAT'S what you're looking for.

Sophie Scholl...and remember, I haven't seen it. Is essentially the biography of the last 6 days in the live of a woman who was part of an underground resistance movement with views to overthrow the Nazi regime.

So..as you can see, when I watch a group of people exiting the theatre as though they've just been part of some sort of train wreck, I'm relatively assured that it is money well spent.

!!

Goddammit! She lost her legwarmers!

!

goddamit

I've lost my legwarmers!

"They're equal now, so why don't they shut up?"

I've heard that spoken. Recently. More than once. About women. In different words.

To be honest, I'm not prepared to go into a feminist (and pro-male, too) rant about inequality between the genders. It's something I feel and can discuss when I'm with someone on my same page, but am not equipped yet to write about it at any length.

You see...I've gone through a feministic renewal. As one ought to in one's life one undergoes many metamorphoses and I have undergone one recently (or rather, am currently undergoing one). So, as it is often the case in these situations, I'm unable to coherently discuss said ch-ch-ch-changes (Bowie).

It would be difficult to make sense of it on paper/keyboard & monitor right now. Much like the linguistics post I keep working on and I'm not happy with.

Anyway...the point of all this yibber yabber is that I read this and I think she (The Hot Librarian) expresses herself beautifully.

Farmer's market highs and lows

I am currently having a love affair with the smoothie I just made out of the fruit I just bought at the farmer's market about 2 hours ago. Mango, cherry and strawberry...I am at the mercy of these ingredients.

They are also comforting me at my time of need since the wool lady I visit weekly (although she never remembers me...or at least she doesn't let on) has disappeared...gone. My heart started beating faster and my palms got sweaty as I searched all the other stalls in case she moved like a distraught mother looking for her child who's wandered too far away. Nothing. Just vegetables where once lay the brightly coloured, hand dyed, hand spun yarns I would dream about through the week.

Fuck.

some stuff

Now...

I thought that we did not pass judgement on others based on certain things. I thought that we did not pass judgement based on ethnicity, religion, gender,

-umm...personally, I think political leanings (as long as they aren't actively harmful) are in this list but of course we all pass judgement on those who's politics do not mesh with our own...however, although I think the coffee shop down the street ought to be perfectly able and allowed to post the sign "no anarchists" on their door...I just don't think it's particularly cool...anyway, where was I? -

, and/or sexual orientation...did I miss any? Oh yes..how could I forget as this is one of the points of this post. What one's country of origin...or residence...is. Which brings me to the unashamed bashing of Americans that I hear all the freaking time. It's not right. There is nothing wrong with Americans no matter what policies you disagree with. I think we've established in many other countries that the government is not the people....so why is it acceptable to bash Americans?

So, just because I'm Canadian, please do not think I will full heartly join you in your mindless bashing of foreigners...even if those foreigners happen to look and speak just like us. It's still not okay.

...and...with that in mind...just because I'm white does not mean that I will join in with your nods and winks when it comes to commenting on those of different colour. Strangers and acquaintances will make a comment on other ethnicities as if I got the white person newsletter and paid my white person dues so that I understand the white person talk. No. I do not accept your bigotry, even if I am white.

...and (thinking about the Stampede party I went to today where our recent acquirers met us (their newly acquirees) at the Palamino bar for an all afternoon eat/drink/boredom fest) just because I'm a girl and you're drunk does not mean you get to grab my arm and rub it as I'm making my way out the door. Or any time, for that matter. What is it with men and their uninvited touching?? None of my male friends who I spent the afternoon chatting with would have dreamed of grabbing my arm and rubbing it, so...Mr. Drunk and Dorky...why on earth did you think that it was a good idea? Besides, who goes to a work function to get laid?

...and...I need to admit that I am ashamed because of three events I just described to you (all of which occured today), none of the perpertrators received more than an akward pause and a change in subject. Well, the last guy got a icy look and a hasty exit...but the first two deserved much worse and I need to work on that.

This just in...

...guy riding a horse down 4th St, barely holding on and slurring the words:

"...I don't drink and ride...no sir...I DON'T drink and ride..."

Sometimes I think there is a reason we stay here.