About 30 minutes ago I had an idea for tonight’s story, but, couldn’t quite get it written up. So, I’m saving it for next week, and reaching way back into the re-run well for this gem, which came to me in a dream, just over a decade ago.
It was December 19th, 2001. The friends had bought the tickets weeks before, and had waited in line for hours with strangers sharing a common passion. These strangers shortly became friends, unified by their wait, and the depth of their admiration.
Their conversations were filled with anxiety. A few couldn’t wait to see the much-anticipated Moria scene. Several were concerned that the movie would severely misinterpret and modify the narrative, and were present despite severe protestations that they didn’t want to see “sacrilege in action,” much less give money to the “untalented, greedy and misguided executors of Tolkien’s estate.” Others simply talked about the books, describing their favorite parts, debating the literary merit of the trilogy, discussing the reasons for the stories’ success, and impressing strangers with their vast recollection of the details of all of Tolkien’s works and mastery of each language of Middle Earth. A few talked about the rumors circulating the Internet that, in order to be more politically correct, Ringwraiths were going to be referred to as “Riders of
Color,” and that the character of Arwen would not only be given dialog, but that there would be kissing.
The crowd continued to be absorbed in these activities. Soon, the usher came, and led the group towards the theater. The patrons hardly noticed.
Seats were filled, and conversations continued, while the trailers zoomed past. The title flashed on the screen, and a shout from somewhere in the theater was heard. But, the conversations did not cease, and the audience didn’t even look at the screen, oblivious to the fact that the object of so much anticipation was unfolding before their eyes.
And so passed three hours. The credits played, and soon, the house lights came up.
The crowd, shocked by the sudden change in the room, was jolted out of the intensity of their conversations. The ushers were indicating that they should exit, but, the crowd was irate. They had come to see the movie, and none would leave until it had been seen. The manager came out to tell them the movie was over, and they should leave. The fans, unwilling to be convinced that the movie had played without their knowledge, became angry, and demanded a screening, but in vain.
Eventually, in exhaustion, the crowd dispersed and proceeded to the box office to buy new tickets.
In the confusion of missing the film, several were inclined to leave the theater in frustration and disdain. The situation forced the frustrated to desuperpollicate the whole experience, and to tell others to avoid the movie at all costs.
By the way, in the dream, I was a member of the audience. Does it make this story more interesting to know that it was as a member of the audience that I
turned to my companions to tell them this would make a good Word of
the Day story?
desuperpollicate / DE – sewp – er – POLL – eh – kate / to give a ‘thumbs down’