I wish I could simply tell you about "Predators," but--in some combination of the digital print, the technology that was supposed to run it, the anti-motivating incentives of a company like AMC and, least of all, the unforunate people who were scheduled to staff, and--consequently--crowd control, the midnight screen of "Predators" at Loews Theatre in Port Chester--things were not that simple.
So, let us begin at the start of the story. Sometime between 8:30 and 9:00, myself and a pair of pals, Evan and Sandor, showed up at the theatre to get our tickets for the midnight screening, just to be sure. It wasn't particularly necessary, but given the chance you can never be too safe. Pursuing a leisurely evening, we went off to the Mamaroneck Diner for eats and then went over to Bronxville for some coffee at Slave to the Grind, which found us there chatting 'til about 11:30 when we had to book it to PoCho. Despite their more concerned mood, I, for no good reason, had a bit of faith that we would make it to the film in time, with the only possible issue being that we might miss some trailers, which we had earlier decided would be a selling bonus since we could be among the first to see some sweet trailers for films to come.
There would be no trailers at this screening.
We got there with a few minutes to spare, a welcome blessing since the beer at the diner and the coffee had finally caught up and demanded their liberation from my bladder. I implored them to save me a seat in the theatre, did my duty, and walked into the theatre, whipping out my phone expecting that I wouldn't be able to see them, especially since I haven't had my glasses for some time now. After a few moments, and a few odd glares, I saw them waving from the other side of the theatre and joined them. I was commended on my "find the party" skills because I readily accepted the situation without fear, or something to that effect.
The theatre was hot. In fact, at some point, I got the sense that it must have become muggy or humid simply out of the en mass sweating in there. The moments dragged while commercials--not trailers--were audible but invisible. The whiteness stared back at us, taunting us for our foolhardy crowding into that theatre. It was the haunt inside. I joked that maybe we were the first to be slayed in a eugenic program to kill off parts of the population based on their media habits, since in-door gatherings like sporting events, concerts and films seem like a good way to round up and off people if you were a supervillain or some such.
The lights dimmed. The film started. Now we saw the opening titles and Adrien Brody fall out of the sky, silently. Awesome. Sandy provided a commentary for the whole situation, and, after he crashed down and got up, the sound kicked in when he met Danny Trejo who fell from the sky as well and we got through to Adrien sneaking up on Oleg Taktarov and, after the chaingun that he had been firing jammed, Adrien told Oleg to "Please stop doing that." Awesome.
A few moments later, though, the film cut out and someone from the theatre said that they were going to restart it from the beginning to try and start it right. This was kind of important since in the moments when Adrien was falling it really helps to hear his alien parachute's altimeter was screaming something awful, something reminscent of the sound that they're tech makes, as well as its red lights getting lit up as Adrien rushed to the ground. It definitely was important, and well worth the reboot.
The film made it past where we had been. They met up with some other characters as they carefully made their way across the Predator planet picking up an IDF soldier, a white ex-con and Sierra Leone RUF officer who were fighting each other when they found him, and a lame white guy hanging from a tree that Adrien shot down with his automatic shotgun. They made their way to stone outcropping when Alice Braga, the former IDF soldier who is played by a latin actress*, says "you wanna see something fucked up?"
And then shit got totally fucked up. The audio lumbered on but the video skipped a bit and then it got jittery like the frames were jumping forward and back like the screen look like it was shaking, or maybe there was earthquake because of the torrential fuck-uppery of this screening.
The scene that started this chaos made the situation even more recursively maddening. Alice Braga placed a leaf with a black powder strip on some water, presumably gunpowder--for its iron, to show that the planet, or perhaps the region or devices within the region, had fucked up electromagnetism because the leaf was spinning something chaotic, meaning that the crew--and we the audience--had no idea where they were. Adrien dragged the crew further through the forest without any rest when they came upon some cages which some cockroaches cralled out of--and then the projectionist cut the film again.
This time someone from the theatre came to tell us that they were having technical difficulties with the digital print and that everyone would recieve a certificate for a free ticket, a fre small popcorn and a free small drink. We stayed long enough to get our vouchers before we rushed out for a ciggarette that, at this point, was vital. However, before we got up out of our seats, I had to ask the staffer handing out the tickets if they would be good for the opening of Inception the next week. He not merely said that it would be so but he expressed the same sickly sweet joy that we had in anticipating that film.
But those thoughts were minor, it was time to run. Still, on the way out, we joked a bit about smoking inside, deciding that if it was closer to home-turf that the idea might not have struck us as such a joke.
In reality, we were playing a joke on ourselves. When we got out, we weren't paying much attention to the doors. However, a few folks who were sitting in our row had the good sense to put a bottle in the door and Sandor had the better sense to put his shoe in there, being a slightly better door stop. Cigarretes consumed and the theatre calling, Sandor made a grave error: when we came back in, he had forgotten to replace the bottle which we had never even thought to place in the first place, since we had blithely walked out for a smoke with little consideration to the thought that the doors might be locked at this point. Evan ran back to do the good deed while Sandy and I swore to save his seat.
The film once more resumed. When it got to the point of "fucked-up" it fucked up again and the projectionist, this time, skipped forward a bit so that we were placed at the moment where the group make their way to a clearing in the jungle and saw the various celestial bodies that where in orbit around the planet. A stunning sight.
The film finally did finish without a hickup from this point, though it was unbearably hot inside even in the middle of the damn night.
Yet, this is where this story ends; there are no more events to be told in relation to the watching of the film. But, there is another tale to come:a discussion of the film itself. Expect it shortly.
*A tradition among Predator films is the tough as the boys latina.
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