In defense of "Bug"
Turning over rocks to see what's living underneath is not one of the more popular American past times.
There is an often repeated and somewhat clich axiom that there are two Americas: the rich and the poor. A rational person wouldn't doubt that assumption; but I live in Arizona, half the people here couldn't tell you what "rational' is. If you're rich, I'm not gonna say "fuck you", I'll say "whatever". I've been punched in the face by rich people before. You live in a dimension way out of sync with mine and I wouldn't trouble you to condescend to communicate with me.
I once had a conversation over lunch with my now former employer that later became the crux of a personal epiphany I had about classism in America. He was everything I'm not, and he was approximately ten million dollars wealthier than I was. The lunch was a sort of informal job interview.
We discovered that we had one thing in common, we both grew up in the same neighborhood about 25 years apart. Something like that would never mislead me into thinking we were simpatico, but I did let my guard down for a moment. When asked how I was getting along at my then current job in north Phoenix, I let it slip that I had to ride the bus to get there. It was an arduous trek, to say the least. I went into great detail about the strange and violent sights I'd seen. I'm quite the storyteller when I'm off on a tangent, and I probably made it sound like a trip around the world.
When I was finished, I noticed my boss giving me a look like I was some kind of grotesquery that squirmed out from under the aforementioned overturned rock; an incredulous grin that quivered nervously at the corners in semi-horror. His posture had shifted and he was facing a new direction, as if he were about to get up from the table and walk away.
I think I was given the job as reward for an afternoon's entertainement.
If you're not rich, it's reasonable to assume you're a bit like me. If you're not rich, you might go to the midnight movies because it's cheap. Also, no one looks at you funny because you're homely or weird or you dress like a gangsta, mostly out of fear of getting assaulted.
If you ever want to experience an unsavory slice of life in Arizona, go to a midnight movie.
Last night, I went to see "Bug" with my cousin. Between the two of us, we'd seen everything else; we're both avid moviegoers. I'd done a bit of homework, read the reviews and whatnot; I knew what to expect from "Bug" going in. Seeing this movie with the midnight movie crowd was not unlike the two hour bus ride to north Phoenix I used to endure ten years ago.
The movie was being screened in the shrimpiest auditorium the theatre had, probably about 80 seats? Very close quarters; it was very nearly packed. It was possibly the dumbest audience I've ever ridden with.
The movie is based on a stage play, and that's the way it feels, like watching a play. There are no special FX to speak of. The special effect is watching people go completely crazy in a short period of time. There are many different layers to the premise. It speaks of lonliness, depression, co-dependancy. There seems to be a lot of allegory about the nature of addiction and obsession. If you've ever sat through a psychology course, you might recognize the pathology of social contagion
The whole point went right over the audience's collective heads with an audible "whoosh".
Fuckers started walking out in two's and three's right when the movie started to hit its' dramatic stride.
My cousin and I had the misfortune of sitting in front of a row of Mexicans who spoke no English and had inexplicably brought three generations of familia to check out the film. Yes. there were snoring elderly persons and whiney pre-school age Nios serving as additional ambience to the goings on; it's no wonder the white folk here hate Mexicans. Obviously, this movie was not made for them, they can be excused for not "getting it".
But when the lights went up and the credits rolled, practically dozens of tirades were launched all at once. The air was so thick with idiocy you could have cut it with a drinking straw. Some dickhead exclaimed, at the top of his lungs "that was the stupidest fucking movie I have ever seen ! " Dude.Please.
My cousin and I waited for everyone to file out; in that minute and a half we heard some of the most apallingly innacurate opinions we've heard in many years of moviegoing. I thought the movie was brilliant.
And if nothing else, Ashley Judd gets bare assed naked.
It was in this moment, that I suddenly imagined what it must have felt like to be my ex-boss listening to my lurid tales of mass transit woe and the neurodegenerative insanity of the unwashed masses.
I am not a snob, but remain a common rider.
Turning over rocks to see what's living underneath is not one of the more popular American past times.
There is an often repeated and somewhat clich axiom that there are two Americas: the rich and the poor. A rational person wouldn't doubt that assumption; but I live in Arizona, half the people here couldn't tell you what "rational' is. If you're rich, I'm not gonna say "fuck you", I'll say "whatever". I've been punched in the face by rich people before. You live in a dimension way out of sync with mine and I wouldn't trouble you to condescend to communicate with me.
I once had a conversation over lunch with my now former employer that later became the crux of a personal epiphany I had about classism in America. He was everything I'm not, and he was approximately ten million dollars wealthier than I was. The lunch was a sort of informal job interview.
We discovered that we had one thing in common, we both grew up in the same neighborhood about 25 years apart. Something like that would never mislead me into thinking we were simpatico, but I did let my guard down for a moment. When asked how I was getting along at my then current job in north Phoenix, I let it slip that I had to ride the bus to get there. It was an arduous trek, to say the least. I went into great detail about the strange and violent sights I'd seen. I'm quite the storyteller when I'm off on a tangent, and I probably made it sound like a trip around the world.
When I was finished, I noticed my boss giving me a look like I was some kind of grotesquery that squirmed out from under the aforementioned overturned rock; an incredulous grin that quivered nervously at the corners in semi-horror. His posture had shifted and he was facing a new direction, as if he were about to get up from the table and walk away.
I think I was given the job as reward for an afternoon's entertainement.
If you're not rich, it's reasonable to assume you're a bit like me. If you're not rich, you might go to the midnight movies because it's cheap. Also, no one looks at you funny because you're homely or weird or you dress like a gangsta, mostly out of fear of getting assaulted.
If you ever want to experience an unsavory slice of life in Arizona, go to a midnight movie.
Last night, I went to see "Bug" with my cousin. Between the two of us, we'd seen everything else; we're both avid moviegoers. I'd done a bit of homework, read the reviews and whatnot; I knew what to expect from "Bug" going in. Seeing this movie with the midnight movie crowd was not unlike the two hour bus ride to north Phoenix I used to endure ten years ago.
The movie was being screened in the shrimpiest auditorium the theatre had, probably about 80 seats? Very close quarters; it was very nearly packed. It was possibly the dumbest audience I've ever ridden with.
The movie is based on a stage play, and that's the way it feels, like watching a play. There are no special FX to speak of. The special effect is watching people go completely crazy in a short period of time. There are many different layers to the premise. It speaks of lonliness, depression, co-dependancy. There seems to be a lot of allegory about the nature of addiction and obsession. If you've ever sat through a psychology course, you might recognize the pathology of social contagion
The whole point went right over the audience's collective heads with an audible "whoosh".
Fuckers started walking out in two's and three's right when the movie started to hit its' dramatic stride.
My cousin and I had the misfortune of sitting in front of a row of Mexicans who spoke no English and had inexplicably brought three generations of familia to check out the film. Yes. there were snoring elderly persons and whiney pre-school age Nios serving as additional ambience to the goings on; it's no wonder the white folk here hate Mexicans. Obviously, this movie was not made for them, they can be excused for not "getting it".
But when the lights went up and the credits rolled, practically dozens of tirades were launched all at once. The air was so thick with idiocy you could have cut it with a drinking straw. Some dickhead exclaimed, at the top of his lungs "that was the stupidest fucking movie I have ever seen ! " Dude.Please.
My cousin and I waited for everyone to file out; in that minute and a half we heard some of the most apallingly innacurate opinions we've heard in many years of moviegoing. I thought the movie was brilliant.
And if nothing else, Ashley Judd gets bare assed naked.
It was in this moment, that I suddenly imagined what it must have felt like to be my ex-boss listening to my lurid tales of mass transit woe and the neurodegenerative insanity of the unwashed masses.
I am not a snob, but remain a common rider.
hah, now i know why i don't go to movies anymore, at least not crowded ones. Bug sounds kinda cool!