Thursday, December 9, 2010

The Fan-1996-dir. by Tony Scott

The Fan (1996) Pictures, Images and Photos

Her name was Ashley.

I was 19 going on 20. She was 17 going on 35.

At the time Ashley turned up in my life I had had sex with three women. Three equally inexperienced, nervous, non-adventurous, women. Girls, really. Girls who would possibly find themselves sexually at some point in the future and turn into ravenous, sexual beasts. But at this time, just girls. Cute girls.

Two years into my tour of duty at the theater and I was a full time projectionist that would occasionally lower himself (hah!) and come down the stairs to work with the little people. The truth was, the more I stayed up in the projection booth the less chances I had to nail young popcorn scoopers.

So, Ashley. Ashley looked like a hotter version of the already hot Mila Kunis, but with the sexual fearlessness of Angelina Jolie. She was just different, and everybody knew it. Including Ashley.

On more than one occasion Ashley would be selling tickets in the box office, I'd be tearing those tickets at the usher podium, and a male customer would say to me "that girl in the box office is amazing. Does she have a boyfriend?"

We hung out once, Ashley, me, and two of my numbskull friends. Got drunk up in the mountains, I nearly fell off mentioned mountain, and I figured Ashley would be forever turned off by my idiocy. She went up into the mountains with three drunk, horny guys and she didn't get laid by any of them.

Cut to a few weeks later. Saturday night. The Fan is opening in auditorium #3. Smallish theater, maybe 130 seats if I'm remembering correctly. Not much expected box office wise from the latest film by the director of Top Gun, Last Boy Scout, and the masterful True Romance.

My friend Brent wanted to see it because it had Wesley Snipes in it. I wanted to see it because I knew Ashley would be working that night and any chance to see her was a good thing. Even if she was just handing me a free ticket to a shitty movie.

We show up for a 10:30ish show time. Ashley isn't in the box office. Fuck me with the business end of a tennis racket. We go inside to the concession stand. She's nowhere to be seen. God-motherfucking-damn it.

We head up the ramp, past the usher podium. We need to go left. I look right, down the hallway, to the door leading to the break room. Ashley is walking out of the break room, in street clothes. On the inside I fucking light up. On the outside I choose casual mode.

She sees me, smiles, I stop and wait. She's happy to see me. If you have even the slightest social common sense you can sense when a girl is happy to see you versus a girl just happy to see anybody. Her face lit up, she showed all of her perfect teeth, the crinkles around her eyes, FUCKING GORGEOUS BEYOND BELIEF.

"what are you guys doing tonight?

"going to see The Fan"

"oh, have fun"

"yeah, you can come with us if you want"

She didn't decline, but she didn't accept right away either. It was more like "I'd like to but I kind of have plans"

Fuck. Now I'm not going to enjoy this movie. The whole time Bobby D is in stalker mode and Wesley Snipes is showing us for the second time that not all black men are good athletes I'm going to be thinking about going home and jerking off.

We part ways. She walks toward the concession stand. We enter the movie. I think Brent can tell immediately that I'm feeling let down, bothered, depressed even.

We sit down in the back row. The trailers start. The movie starts. ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, DUDE? SHE'S SUPPOSED TO COME IN AT THE LAST MOMENT AND---

There she is, walking in all sly like, not wanting to seem anxious cause what the fuck does she have to be anxious about? She's a fucking perfect 10. I'm an inexperienced punk rocker kid with little social graces.

She spots us, passes by my buddy and sits down next to me. Leans in to ask me what she's missed. She keeps looking over at me during the show, smiling, checking to see if I'm checking her out, or if I'm actually paying attention to the worst movie Tony Scott ever made and yes that includes Beverly Hills Cop II.

At some point during the movie the song CLOSER by NINE INCH NAILS plays comes on the soundtrack. I couldn't tell you if it was five minutes into the movie or 95 minutes. In fact, I couldn't recall for you a single fucking detail from the movie other than what I've read over the years by others who have seen it.

What I do know, is that once the song CLOSER stopped playing, my mind fucking stopped working and my life was never the same again.

Because as Trent Reznor sang those hallowed lyrics I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL, I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE...hold on...i need to have a second alone...

As soon as Reznor sang those lines, Ashley looked over at me, made sure I looked back at her, and mouthed the same lyrics back at me.

(whisper) i wanna fuck you like an animal, i wanna feel you from the inside


Wesley Snipes and Bobby D could have morphed into talking cartoon animals on the screen in front of me and I would not have noticed or cared.

This was on. Fucking on.

What happened that night in my apartment was mind blowingingly awesome for me. For Ashley I'm sure it wasn't. I wasn't able to keep up with her in a knowing-what-i'm-doing kind of way. I gave it my all, but I just couldn't.

But we were together for awhile after that night. Several months, and she will figure into later movie reviews of some truly shitty movies. The sex got better, and better, and better until the point where I could tell she was no longer wishing for more. She was satisfied. She had raised me from a pup into a pit bull.

The reason it ended was tragic for her, and tragic to me in the way things can only be tragic for a 20 year old guy. I'll get into it at another time. But the fact is, I wish I could talk to her one more time and just see how things are. But some doors can't be reopened.

But hey, for three months she fucked the living shit out of me on a daily basis so who am I to complain?

Coming soon...From Dusk Till Dawn, Fight Club, Pulp Fiction, The Stupids, and many more

Sunday, December 5, 2010

If this is your first night at Fight Club... have to fight.

from 1994 to 2002 i worked at a chain movie theater doing every dirty fucking job you can do from maintenance, janitorial, popcorn scooper, ticket seller, usher, manager, and stock. i learned the ins and the outs of the movie theater business. my main tour of duty was as a projectionist. the amount of fun i had in those years is immeasurable.

i've had jobs that paid better but threading up projectors remains, for several reasons i'll eventually get into, my all time most rewarding and fun job.

this blog will mainly be movie reviews from a tweaked angle. there are literally hundreds of movie review blogs on these interwebs so why the fuck would I want to add another one to the mix? i'm going to review movies, but with a twist. i'll be focusing mainly on movies that were released from the years 1994 to 2002. my reviews will tend to be a personal account of my experience seeing the movie, what was going on in my life at the time, etc.

along with the reviews i'll mix in some behind the scenes theater shit, some personal stories, and god knows what else.

will anybody give a shit? i don't see why you would, but maybe i'll be surprised. this blog is merely a form of therapy, a way to remember, and as a way to forget.

so, all that long winded shit being said, let's talk movies.