Movie night

The Drunkawife being otherwise engaged, the D-blog determined on a lonely guy evening Saturday and, Pee-Wee Herman-like, went to a movie all by himself, a free screening of His Girl Friday at the Starz FilmCenter (absolutely hate that name) down the street at the old Tivoli building.

The movie was hosted by Howie Movshovitz, the former Denver Post film critic who's now some kind of muckety-muck with the Denver Film Society and film critic for Colorado Public Radio.

Last time we went to one of these monthly screenings we got there just before show time and couldn't get in even though we had tickets, so this time I arrived more than an hour before the show. Nearly the first one in (I shoved some old bat toward the doors by mistake, so she was first), I found a seat at the very back of the theater. Behind me were only a few wheelchair-access seats. A good vantage point to scope out the crowd as it came in. Here's my fake live-blog:


--What a bunch of freaks. Lots of them are carrying notebooks like they're attending a seminar or something. Hey, that's funny! I'll write it down in my notebook.

--A fair number of these ginks also brought books to read while waiting for the movie to start. Gee, me too: The Professors.

--And half the guys here came with their moms. Not me! (She's dead.)

--Woman sitting by herself in the row in front of me. Youngish. Beret. Not real big on berets myself. She's looking around at me. Now she's getting up and moving. Six rows down. She couldn't possibly be afraid of me, hunched behind her in the dark, scribbling frantically and emitting the occasional bark of bitter laughter, could she?

--Just gawking around. People sure are funny lookin'. I'm glad that woman moved. She's yawned about six times really loudly, not covering her mouth or anything. Her yawns are like little screams. You can hear them all over the (tiny) theater. Several people have looked over at her like, what's up with that?

--Oh, man, she's gathered up all her junk and moved back to the row right in front of me. Bizarre. Ignore her. Try to read The Professors. No, don't.

--Man, she's well-prepared. Thermos, insulated cup . . . what the hell is she eating? A bagel? She's got a little pre-measured container of some kinda bagel-dippin' sauce, too, and she's dippin' 'n' rippin' right into that old bagel!

--I kind of admire people who stiff the concessions.

--Now she's eating raw broccolli, and she's got another little container of dippin' sauce out--looks like ranch dressing.

--Unbelievable! Now she's tearin' away at a chicken breast, dipping it into yet another little container--this one appears to hold barbecue sauce! You go, girl! Far away where I can't hear you chewing!

--Should quit paying attention, but someone (many in the crowd seem to know each other) just asked chicken-girl how her "play" was coming along. She's a playwright? That would explain the hoarded food. The play isn't going well at all, she tells the theater; in fact, she's quit working on it.

--Now they're yelling capsule movie reviews at each other. Miami Vice needed "tighter writing." X-Men = X-cellent! Playwrights like X-Men?

--Theater's full. Oh, the humanity. Some woman is telling the fat guys behind me in the handicapped chairs to vamoose. Not handicapped, I guess. But now she's setting up a director's chair in the space. Apparently that's where Movshovitz always sits.

--Director's-chair lady is from the Tattered Cover Bookstore, which sponsors these screenings. She goes up front and makes a little speech. Sorry things are getting started a little late, we had Algore in-store today! Audience: spontaneous silence.

--Here's Howie. He's going to show a short before the main movie: The Dentist. I've got it on DVD. Hell, I've got His Girl Friday on DVD. What am I doing here?

--Howie uses the old Truffaut line (I say as if I'd heard it before): It's a beautiful day; let's go to a movie!

--Howie's definition (from somebody else) of screwball comedy: "Women go crazy so men can return to sanity." Eh.

--Okay, Howie's in his director's chair. The Dentist. Funny, but I like The Golf Specialist better. "Don't stand there! Don't you know I'll smite you in the sconce with this truncheon?"

--His Girl Friday. Hilarious. Audience transported. I've seen it a dozen times, still laugh like a maniac.

--Movie over. Howie answers questions. Whatever. Playwright-chicken lady is monopolizing the floor. I'm outta here.