Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The theater: AMC in downtown Brooklyn.
The time: A busy Saturday evening.
The movie: The Watchmen, based on same-named book by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons; directed by Zach "300" Snyder.
The audience: A mostly male, packed house (people were sitting in the aisles it was so packed). And for some reason, at least fifty pregnant women, and a lot of small children. I reiterate:
The movie: The Watchmen
Observation: People in the audience start hooting at the screen the second we catch a passing glimpse of Dr. Manhattan's dick.
It takes one person saying, "that's som blue ass dick!" at just the right moment in the beginning of a film, to break the ice for everyone else.
This wasn't the first time I've listened to an audience get involved with a movie. I can remember such storied celluloid classics as "Scream," "Don't Drink Juice in the Hood..." and "Snakes on a Plane" were made better movies because of the audience participation. But if I were one of those people who collected movie ticket stubs, this one would have a big blue phallus on it. And it would go in a golden frame. And I would hang this framed blue ticket on a wall, in its own annex, at my Museum of Memorable Moviebilia. This is no light honor. I've been hit on during "Good Fellas" by a totally stoned Woody Harrelson. I've witnessed a raver having a bad LSD-trip and start wailing through "Willy Wonka."
I've had my hand placed on an erection during "Lord of the Rings."
Not even THAT gets its own annex.
What amazed me about "The Watchmen" experience was that dick, tits, and sex, made everyone go crazy! I mean, hooting, offended, entertained, crazy.
Observation: In the film, many Dr. Manhattans approach a moaning Silk Spectre II, buck naked. People from various corners of the theater start laughing and yelling out loud: OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD BFFFFWA HA HA HA. OH MY GOD. Ditto when we see his blue-grey ass crack.
No one likes a dick-shower-offer.
During one of Dr. Manhattan's five billion soliloquies, a handful of people left. It's like after we see his penis, nothing he says can be taken seriously. Poor guy. Hung to boot. And it wasn't an "I'm not gay I'm a straight male!" thing either. One of the people who left yelled back at the rest of us, "This movie sucks! Go home and rent Batman!"
If there is a franchise with less heterosexual innuendo than the Batman film franchise (...ok, maybe 300), I don't know about it.
For those of you who've seen the flick, you can just imagine what happened to the audience when Silk Spectre II and Night Owl get it on.
The Blue Man Groin did the most damage, however. Every time Dr. Manhattan's member appeared on screen someone would cluck their tongue, sigh, guffaw...leave the theater.
I mean it can't be that we're afraid of nudity, could it? In an age where every single music video features a greasy female tit and then a fakeout closeup on a male nipple; when everyone's seen Paris Hilton's vag and Colin Ferrell getting sucked off...
Hey, I'm laughing as hard as the next gal whenever nudity is this protracted, and Dr. Manhattan can leave proton particles in my bed any day, but c'mon now. Let's not embarrass the guy. He'll turn red.
BTW, in case the posting title was too much of a dick tease for you:
Check out The New Yorker's Anthony Lane aptly review the film, including the best description of Dr. Manhattan yet:
Last and hugest (of the characters) is Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), who is buff, buck naked, and blue, like a porn star left overnight in a meat locker.
Dan Kois and Ashley Quigg send up The Watchmen through the eyes of filmdom's contemporary auteurs. (Via The Beat)
Posted by ill iterate at 5:33 PM