My contribution to Earth Day 2012 is to tell you about a Saturday afternoon (March 3rd to be exact) trip to the movies with my six-year old grandson to see what I have deemed to be the worst film of 2012 (and it’s only April).
The film is The Lorax, which opened March 2nd. On opening day, this movie grossed $17.4 million.
Having heard that The Lorax was an indoctrination movie, I had no desire to see this movie but I love my grandson who had been begging me relentlessly for months to take him to see the movie once it opened.
At first I refused, but being a sucker for a six year old who has no shame to his game, i.e,, repeating to me constantly, “...Grandma, I love you and would go anywhere with you…” while rubbing my shoulder and stroking my hair, I reluctantly agreed.
I later found out that I was about the only one on the planet that he was able to convince to spend a dime on this movie.
Twenty-five minutes prior to the start of the movie, we enter the theater and head for the concession stand. For a line that is not that long, this is taking forever.
There are five people on line in front of me; one of them appears to be a young elitist Marxist. How do I figure? Well if you have been following the jackrabbit makeup of OWS, you would get my drift.
Apparently, this elitist arrived at the theater along with three other Marxists bringing with them a total of six to eight children of varying ages. Their arrival was early enough to allow them to stake out the best seats in the house, i.e., theater six (The Lorax).
Each adult Marxist but one had planted themselves in a different line. Marxist number four remained in theater six with the children.
The idea was that whoever reached the counter first on their line would signal the others to immediately join that individual whereupon all would place their orders “collectively.”
That, of course, means that those of us waiting on line behind these self-centered elitists would be forced to stand on line longer than need be.
Now I am not a hater and normally I do not mind when folks pool their orders together but three Marxists adults placing orders for a company of nine to twelve while the clock is ticking down here is not cool.
In addition, the cashier taking the orders on my line is a teenager who clearly would prefer to be elsewhere this late Saturday afternoon. He also happens to be the slowest moving cashier in Brooklyn. No doubt, this young man is in training for a future at the post office or motor vehicle.
Seventeen minutes before the movie is scheduled to start and the Marxist finally reaches the cashier to place his order(s). Immediately, his fellow Marxists join his side at which points there are groans and protestations from everyone online behind this motley crew of Communists Marxists elitists.
Pretending not to hear or better yet, even give a damn, they begin to “discuss” their orders.Nine minutes before the movie starts….tick…tick…tick….
Eight minutes before the movie starts and these Communists Marxists elitists are standing their pooling their funds together to pay for their order while still trying to figure out exactly what they want.
Out come the dollars on to the top of the counter.
Out come the coins, i.e., quarters, nickels, dimes…. Tick….tick…tick…
Seven minutes before the movie starts, they are passing the popcorn to the Marxist on the right who is now buttering the popcorn.
In the meantime, the Marxist at the counter begins to haggle with the cashier over the final cost of the order.
Dollars and coins spread all over the counter, she is insisting that she is entitled to some sort of discount, but the very young cashier teenager who is not as stupid as she thinks he disagrees. Tick…tick….tick….
Enter the supervisor, at which point, I scream out “Six and half minutes and counting to the beginning of the movie and some of us do not have our seats yet.”
Finally, these jackrabbits pay up and run their fat elitist arses in the direction of theater six.It is at this point that the man directly in front of me shakes his head in exasperation, rolling his eyes, places his order. Wham, his order is complete and immediately father and son are off to theater six.
Four minutes to go. I get my grandson his popcorn, his corn dog and order apple juice. The theater is out of apple juice and bottles of water. Yikes. So I settle for a Mountain Dew or Sprite.
One minute to go, we finally enter theater six which is full to the brim and have no choice but to settle upon two end seats in the second row far on the far right hand side of the theater adjacent to the emergency entrance. (Did I mention that the outside temperatures were 35 degrees that day, the theater was just off the Atlantic Ocean and the heat was at a minimum setting if at all in theater six? No doubt, the theater owner assumed that with a theater full of Marxists, he could get away with freezing us to death.)
JoJo does not want to sit there. I look around, there are no other seats available and I tell you no lie; I realize at this point that surely, I must be the only Conservative in the whole damned theater.
There is a young woman three seats down from us who is there with her two daughters. Her coats and scarves were placed in two of the seats next to us. Immediately, she moves them so that I could place our jacket and scarves there.
Now if I am the only Conservative in the theater, she appears to be one of the few independents there. Just something about her that gives me that feeling.
I do get the pleasure of seeing the coming attraction to a movie that I would love to see in the future.
Finally, JoJo is comfortable, he has his popcorn and a huge smile on his face. The Lorax begins at 4:46 p.m.
4:49 p.m. and my jaw is already on the floor as I think to myself that the author of the book must be doing back flips in his grave (or is he?).
The Lorax opens with some cornball happy song, which has all the kids dancing in their seats and the Marxists smiling.
Yep, pretty darned creepy. It is at this point that I reach into my purse and take out two Tylenol. Sighing loudly, I say, “a freaking indoctrination movie. This is going to be the longest 86 minutes of my life.” Who cares, no one is listening to me.
I doze off for a moment or two, awakening just in time to witness on screen a bunch smiling bears, deers and joyful fish who has not spent more than 30 seconds in the lake throughout the whole movie going into shock as the main character chops down a fuzzy pastel looking tree.
At this point (as you can tell, I have not read the book) some creature, I think he is called The Lorax, pops up out of the tree stump (I think).
The animals who are now in mourning the loss of the tree follow the creature’s lead as he places small boulders around the now dead tree. Thus, they hold a mock funeral for the tree.
Well, I need go no further but at this point, I am really pissed. Not only did I spend $40.00 to see an indoctrination movie, it is also a movie for tree huggers. Double-freaking yikes.
Adding insult to injury, this is not going over JoJo’s head in the least, as 35 minutes into this catastrophe, he leans over to me, sighs and says, “Grandma is this not the longest movie you have ever seen? Can I have my corn dogs and nachos now?” Ohhhhhhhhhhhh boy.
At that point, hearing a slight roaring sound, I look over to the left of us and it is the nice woman who gave up her coat and scarf seats slumped way down into her seat snoring.
Fifteen minutes later, she jumps up, shakes her head and says, “I can’t take this anymore.” We look at each other and smile, totally getting it as she signals for her daughters to follow her out of theater six.
I doze off several more times and finally before I even realize that the credits are on the screen, there is a roar from the audience. I look up to a rounding standing ovation in the theater. Ugh! Rolaids. Tums. Anything.
A standing ovation, can you believe that? I say to JoJo, “this movie theater is full of flipping Marxists.” Of course, he's excited top but not for the reasons that everyone else is excited. He jumps up, gives a loud yippee and says "now can I go get my angry birds?"
Next stop McDonald’s for anything that would send the nanny state into a tizzy then home, at which point I sat down to refute all the b.s. that my grandson may have ingested today and boy did he have a lot of questions.
Interestingly enough, he said to me more than once that some parts of the movie were just plain weird.
Besides demanding that my son pay me back the $4o I spent for this crappy movie, a few days later, Fandango.com had the audacity to email me and ask me to submit a review of The Lorax. I doubt that they will EVER ask my opinion again.