27 Dresses VS Rambo - 2 Tubs/5 Tubs

This week I'm reviewing a double feature; the first, a chick flick - 27 Dresses. The other movie is for real men - Rambo.

Coming into the ring is a returning champion, 27 Dresses. Her fans are predominantly female - the young, attractive, single women who come to see this movie with their girlfriends. These ladies are concerned with their figures and don't fall victim to the concession trap on their way into the theater. Sure, there are a couple of porkers and old maids who munch down on some popcorn, but most of these ladies are consuming only water or a Coke Zero they've snuck inside their purse. A water bottle is much easier to police up than a large drink. Not only are these ladies more frugal, they're more tidy and leave a reasonable amount of trash in their wake.

On the right is the veteran of thirty years, Rambo, tossing his hat into the ring one last shot at glory. Here comes the first of his fans: 4 fat guys filling up the four front row seats on the right side - where any good patriot chooses to sit. Each of these guys are armed with a tub of popcorn, a large soda, and their pockets overflow with contraband. Firing on full automatic, these guys spray the floor in front and the seats behind them with wide shot patterns of popcorn and candy wrappers. Empty tubs attest to their gallantry and team spirit. Behind them line up an auditorium of testosterone induced army of men and a few women looking for a real man. There's nothing neat about Rambo. The end justifies the means. If you get in the way, you're bound to be buried in popcorn, lathered in fake buttery topping, and embalmed in layers of popcorn salt. There's peanut shells and sunflower seed hulls, golden Miller High Life cans, and empty Skoal cans under the seats. Rambo brings out the swine in males.

Were Rambo to hook up with professional maid of honor Jane, she would wear an unrevealing camouflage dress with sniper ghillie hood and Rambo knife secured to her garter, and he would be decked out in black tshirt, black bandana, black cammy pants, and combat boots. They would depart the reception in an armor plated Hummer with .50 cal machine guns mounted fore and aft. The couple would honeymoon in northern Laos before moving to Thailand where he would manage a black market riverboat business and she would create her own unique design of bridal gowns handmade by slave child laborers.

Cloverfield - 1 Tub

If you had trouble following the jerking camera in "The Blair Witch Project", you won't want to sit too close to the screen for Cloverfield. I've heard it reported, but happily never witnessed, that some viewers have gotten nauseous while watching the film. Let me be the first to warn you: Don't throw up in my theater or I'll use your tongue to lap up every trace of bile and butter on that floor.

Where the title comes from is a mystery since the film takes place in New York City. The scenes of collapsing buildings comes straight out of 9/11 images. Beheading the Statue of Liberty is more than enough reason to throw all of the U.S.'s might at destroying the parasite that chooses to attack NY after Osama bin Laden. Perhaps Osama sent it......

Thankfully, Cloverfield is not one of those gory films that Hollywood churns out this time of year. You have to watch closely to see what is happening, and you're left wondering just what did happen; but once you've seen it two or three times it kind of grows on you.

Also thankfully, Cloverfield does not attract the sort of pigs who create havoc in other auditoriums. I'm at the point where I hope Hollywood stops producing family-friendly movies all together. Perhaps it's the geeks who come to this sort of movie who are by nature more fastidious than the goons who spill everything in movies like National Treasure, Alvin & the stupid Chipmunks, First Sunday, and Juno. I might not pay to watch a movie like Cloverfield, but I don't mind cleaning up behind those who do pay.

The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything - A VeggieTales Movie

The title says it all. Admittedly, I'm not a big fan of the VeggieTales and I especially dislike their theme music. Go ahead, tell me I'm not a good Christian. The parents who bring their children to see this movie aren't very Christian in the way they leave the theater. While scripture doesn't really say, "Cleanliness is next to Godliness", it ought to; and Christian parents should take better care to ensure that their children do not make an unnecessary mess.....but the current generation never learned to clean up after themselves, so it all goes back to that other scripture - "Train up your child in the ways they should go and when they get old they won't depart from it." But fail to teach them to pick up after themselves and they can't teach their kids what they weren't taught and before you know it, we've got a world of sloppy gluttons rutting like pigs in a trough.

To be honest, which means that some of the other stuff I tell you might not be 100% truthful, except for opening weekend, this movie isn't getting a lot of business. On Tuesday we sold zero tickets to this movie. And somehow I still found popcorn on the floor. Apparently people were sneaking in from other auditoriums - another unChristian thing in direct violation of the addendums and amendments to the 10 Commandments of Theater Attendance. As the faithful scribe of this website, I am careful to edit when I'm led by the Spirit or a spirit.

Truthfully, (there I go again) the only reason to see this movie is if you're a diehard and tonedeaf VeggieTale fan. I sat in on about 45 minutes of the movie and fell asleep. Perhaps we've been spoiled by the great graphics in other animated films and there's only so much you can do with a cucumber or pepper that's G-rated. The theme the film tackles - facing our fears - is a worthy one; I'd just like to see it done with more blood and guts than with V8 juice.

The Bucket List - 3 Tubs

I try not to divulge too much of a movie’s story line in my reviews. After all, DirtyMovieCritic is about movie fans, not movies. But the reason I work at a theater instead of a job that pays better (Wal-Mart, sharecropping, Welfare), is because I love to watch movies. Always have. The 21st Century hasn’t produced that many great films, and The Bucket List probably doesn’t fall under that category either; but I enjoyed it. People will say that this movie is too shallow, but I came away invigorated and sensing peace – mostly because I didn’t have to clean the theater after the show. I’ve looked forward to The Bucket List for months now. I was not disappointed. For those who wanted more pathos, all I can say is, “Get a life”. I go to the movies to escape reality not to delve into someone else’s reality. That’s why I avoid political movies by chumps like Michael Moore. My reality is bad enough, I don’t have to adopt someone else’s paranoia.

I can’t remember if Morgan Freeman’s character quoted an ancient Egyptian or a Tibetan saying that, when we die, we go to stand in front of a wall. At that wall we are asked two simple questions: The first – have we experienced joy in our lives? The second – has our life given joy to someone else? Like Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson), I have to search my soul to answer the first question because I am a pessimist by nature – something you might have picked up on if you’ve read many of my reviews. And like Edward Cole, I too have to hem & haw over the answer to the second question and find that I can only mumble “I hope so”.

At this movie’s opening weekend, fans flocked to the theater, almost selling out each showing. Thankfully, these are different fans than those of the other new release, “First Sunday”. I would go so far as to say that more than half of the viewers of The Bucket List were kind and considerate and took their trash with them after the movie. There was no contraband found under the seats, just the usual popcorn, soda cups, and an occasional Nerds Rope wrapper. The people exiting the movie were an equal mixture of black and white, mostly middle aged or older, probably college graduates by the way they were dressed and deported themselves. Quite a contrast from First Sunday which let out at the exact same time directly across the hall.

One of the drawbacks of working at a theater – aside from cleaning up after pigs – is that someone is bound to discuss the movie within earshot of you before you get a chance to see it yourself. With The Bucket List, I made a point of avoiding anyone who hinted at what happened in this movie. It was bad enough to learn that Will Smith’s beautiful German Shepherd dies in “I Am Legend”, or that the last two minutes of “No Country For Old Men” leaves people scratching their heads and wondering what the movie was about. When I saw that Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson were starring in this movie, I knew it was bound to be good. Certainly the movie doesn’t dwell on the morbid effects of cancer. I can see that every day in my own home as my daughter battles cancer. What I wanted, and what I got, was to see someone face mortality with courage and even humor. If critics find this movie unrealistic, too bad. Reality is what we make it.

We live, we die, and the wheels on the trash cart go round and round.

The Bucket List - 3 Tubs

I apologize for posting this multiple times. It never seemed to show up on preview. Go see the movie. You will enjoy it:)

The Bucket List - 3 Tubs

I try not to divulge too much of a movie’s story line in my reviews. After all, DirtyMovieCritic is about movie fans, not movies. But the reason I work at a theater instead of a job that pays better (Wal-Mart, sharecropping, Welfare), is because I love to watch movies. Always have. The 21st Century hasn’t produced that many great films, and The Bucket List probably doesn’t fall under that category either; but I enjoyed it. People will say that this movie is too shallow, but I came away invigorated and sensing peace – mostly because I didn’t have to clean the theater after the show. I’ve looked forward to The Bucket List for months now. I was not disappointed. For those who wanted more pathos, all I can say is, “Get a life”. I go to the movies to escape reality not to delve into someone else’s reality. That’s why I avoid political movies by chumps like Michael Moore. My reality is bad enough, I don’t have to adopt someone else’s paranoia.

I can’t remember if Morgan Freeman’s character quoted an ancient Egyptian or a Tibetan saying that, when we die, we go to stand in front of a wall. At that wall we are asked two simple questions: The first – have we experienced joy in our lives? The second – has our life given joy to someone else? Like Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson), I have to search my soul to answer the first question because I am a pessimist by nature – something you might have picked up on if you’ve read many of my reviews. And like Edward Cole, I too have to hem & haw over the answer to the second question and find that I can only mumble “I hope so”.

At this movie’s opening weekend, fans flocked to the theater, almost selling out each showing. Thankfully, these are different fans than those of the other new release, “First Sunday”. I would go so far as to say that more than half of the viewers of The Bucket List were kind and considerate and took their trash with them after the movie. There was no contraband found under the seats, just the usual popcorn, soda cups, and an occasional Nerds Rope wrapper. The people exiting the movie were an equal mixture of black and white, mostly middle aged or older, probably college graduates by the way they were dressed and deported themselves. Quite a contrast from First Sunday which let out at the exact same time directly across the hall.

One of the drawbacks of working at a theater – aside from cleaning up after pigs – is that someone is bound to discuss the movie within earshot of you before you get a chance to see it yourself. With The Bucket List, I made a point of avoiding anyone who hinted at what happened in this movie. It was bad enough to learn that Will Smith’s beautiful German Shepherd dies in “I Am Legend”, or that the last two minutes of “No Country For Old Men” leaves people scratching their heads and wondering what the movie was about. When I saw that Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson were starring in this movie, I knew it was bound to be good. Certainly the movie doesn’t dwell on the morbid effects of cancer. I can see that every day in my own home as my daughter battles cancer. What I wanted, and what I got, was to see someone face mortality with courage and even humor. If critics find this movie unrealistic, too bad. Reality is what we make it.

We live, we die, and the wheels on the trash cart go round and round.

SNEAK PREVIEW - FIRST SUNDAY - 5 Tubs (Predicted)

I knew I was in for a rough evening when I saw the radio station van parked out in front of the theater Wednesday night. We were showing a sneak preview to First Sunday, a comedy about robbing a church - not that robbing God is something new (we do it every Sunday when the offering plate is passed and we have decided we need the money more than He does), but some folks just think it's funny.

The line began about 5:30 in the afternoon; the movie didn't start until 7:30. By 6 PM the lobby was full of people trying to exchange their invites for tickets. We had to usher them outside and along the walk way to make room for the paying customers. The studio sponsoring the sneak preview wasn't very organized and seemed more concerned with security than with seating the viewers they'd begged to show up.

The second indication that all would not go smoothly last night were the abundance of MacDonald's bags and sodas carried in one arm while the other was occupied by an infant or a squirming toddler. We had nothing to do with the premier as the studio had paid for the space, but I knew there would be a mess to clean up besides popcorn, sodas, and spilled courtesy cups of butter and salt.

Then 'She' walked in. The meanest looking black woman I've ever seen. She was short, average build, wearing a blue jeans jacket, a scowl on her face, and toting an empty popcorn tub. This woman has never cracked a smile in her entire life. She looked like a hardened criminal (probably was). Ignoring the line of other impatient black attendees, She strode straight to the concession stand and shoved her popcorn tub, bent and battered from countless previous visits, at the concessionaire, who obediently filled the bucket and set it down gently before the woman.

You need to understand something about that "Free Refills" policy on large popcorn and sodas. They don't entitle you to unlimited free refills, or unlimited free refills on the date of purchase. The free refill means you get one free refill if you gorge yourself on the first two gallons of popcorn. What we're supposed to do, but apparently no one had the courage to do so far, was to mark the bottom of the tub with an "X" so that the next time that bucket is presented we know they've already had their one-time refill. You would think the criminal would have been satisfied to take advantage once again, but believe it or not, before the movie started, before she even got inside to get a seat, the bucket was empty and she got out of line and marched right back to the concession stand where they meekly refilled the bucket again. Seems she was sharing her popcorn while standing in line, although one look at that convicted murderer's face should have frightened away the most determined moocher. She returned once more as she exited the movie, still toting that beaten and dirty popcorn bucket.

Perhaps that's why I was in no mood when six hoodlums stalked right past me later in the night and started ordering concessions. I went over and asked for their tickets and each pointed at the other. Finally, the biggest one, 6'5" of slick con man said, "We gave them to the concessionist." "Where's your stubs?" I asked. "Man! You saw us walk in here. Why you hasslin us?" "Because I'm not about to let you stay here and lose my job." I retorted. "I told you we gave ya'll tikkits." Giantman said. "And I'm telling you that we will not start the projector in that auditorium until the cops get here to escort you off the property." I told him. (We couldn't have held up a movie if tickets were sold but he didn't know this.) He went over to where the others were sitting on the bench munching on popcorn paid for with money they'd probably stolen on the way to the theater, and told them what I said. They stared at me, but I didn't care. They were bullies and con artists and they thought I was stupid or afraid, but I didn't act the way they thought so they left. I did check the parking lot before walking to my car, you never know with thugs.

But back to the movie, "First Sunday"..... there were over 100 people who had invites that could not get a seat, but do you think the studio would have gone out and told them they were running out? Nope. They just let them stand for an hour in line expecting to get in. When the first who would be turned away started complaining, the studio realized they had better do something if they wanted to escape with their lives so they offered a free pass to a future movie to all who would stay and sign up for them. There were some pissed off people leaving that theater, and some of them stopped by the radio station van to complain - even though the invite clearly read, "Seating capacity limited. Arrive early to receive your ticket. Invitations exceed available seats." Few of the movie goers read that disclaimer and I was unfortunate enough to be at the front door where they were being turned away.

Because the theater was sold out, most of the movie goers gave up on concessions in order to protect their seat. Maybe 50 people came out of the theater to buy snacks. Jesus must have been present however, as when I went to check the theater after everyone had left, I found both trash containers overflowing and popcorn bags and drinks in almost every seat. Someone had multiplied the junk food and fed the famished movie goers while they watched God get ripped off and laughed about it. It may have been that 'White Jesus" who's picture hung on the church office wall and frightened one of the thieves. If Jesus was in there, He must have exited the back way because I didn't see Him enter or leave.

I'm taking my camera to work with me Saturday night so I can post some pictures for you of how human pigs leave theaters for poor, honest, hard-working ushers like me to clean. I predict that First Sunday will be a 5-Tub mess. That's as high as I can go. Pray for me when I have to go into the lion's den this weekend and clean this sewer.

No Country For Old Men - 3 Tubs

This movie will no doubt be nominated for an Oscar this year. It hasn't had a lot of competition, and IMHO doesn't deserve to have to share the spotlight with the depressingly dark Sweeney Todd or the sarcastic (unlike myself) spoof on teen pregnancy, Juno or that other film about promiscious sex - Knocked Up. No Country is violent - not in the sick way Sin City was violent, but in a way that says that evil is always present, and you can't escape evil. Even in a dark theater auditorium where mindless slugs aim fists at mouth and scatter popcorn and Raisinettes and Sour Patch gummy candies in random patterns, with no thought to innocent ushers who wander into the crime scene with aching feet and red palms from tiny red-painted brooms made in China.

Perhaps it's the way that evil touches everyone that the audience is compelled to break all of the 10 Commandments of Theater Attendance. Many disgruntled movie-goers leave the theater scratching their heads and wondering what the last two minutes of the movie was about. They forget their trash, their cell phones, car keys, umbrellas, and one person forgot their socks. Don't know why someone would take off their shoes and socks in the theater - it's not like we mop the floor, except to spread the sticky spilled sodas. So you see, even ushers are prone to acts of thoughtlessness or concern over the safety for the next audience we know is coming just to make our jobs that much harder.

Mark my words, some day an usher is going to lose it. He's going to become another Anton Chigurh (the man with the deadly air compressor and never quit attitude). This usher is going to track messy patrons to their cars, their homes and their hotel rooms to exact evil justice for breaking the rules of theater attendance. He will fear no authority, not even that of the General Manager. He will come after your parents for failing to teach you to clean up after yourself. You won't be able to elude him because he will track you from the dirty auditorium to your dirty car to your filthy house and your messy desk at work. When he finds you, don't expect mercy. Your only chance lies in the flip of a coin. You can try to be positive and choose 'heads' but don't be surprised if he keeps flipping til it comes up 'tails'.

There's no one to blame but yourself. You chose the theater, the movie, the seat under which you left your trash. The carnage that results from your lack of respect for this paragon of justice lies on your head. Me? - I'm like Tommy Lee Jones - I'm just an observer in this drama, remembering back to the old days when there was only one size popcorn and one size of soda, and hearing from my dad how, during the Great Depression, there wasn't money for junk food and all an usher had to do was to find patrons a seat in the theater so they could escape from reality for a couple of hours.

"The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north; around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full; to the place where the streams flow, there they flow again. All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun."—Ecclesisastes 1:6-9

Writer's Block

Before the screen writers decided to go on strike, they had run out of ideas. Maybe I've seen too many Oliver Stone fantasies; but I believe the strike was just an excuse to give them time to come up with some new ideas. I mean, come on - another Rambo movie? Even I Am Legend is a rip-off of the Last Man on Earth. Alvin and the Chipmunks were singing when I was a child and they haven't improved with decades of practice. Water Horse is Free Willy, as Alien vs Predator is Alien vs Predator and Final Destination Three is the same as Final Destination 1 and 2. Six Rocky movies (although the first and last are actually good), three Pirates of the Caribbean, two (so far) National Treasures.....

As a result of the strike (and writers' block), new movie releases and TV series are being pushed back to allow time to write, produce, film, release and market new stuff. Things are so bad that one guy wants to bring back an updated version of "Green Acres". I never liked Mr. Haney - he reminded me of one of those televangelists predicting Armageddon and asking for money so he can reach heathens so that God can have more notches on His sword than Lucifer does.

A coworker who works with independent films suggested to me that I ought to write a screenplay for my novel-to-be-before-I-die "SeaTree". The problem is, I've already thought of a sequel and prequel for something I haven't written yet. It's there - in my mind, and about 50 pages on a CD rom somewhere on my desk. It might not be a bad idea to try a screenplay since I tend to provide too much detail. SeaTree could very well be one of those 500-600 page epic adventures rivaling the Chronicles of Narnia series. Or maybe not....very unlikely.

How does one convert from page to big screen this idea of a supernatural/romance/adventure dream that lasted probably three minutes one night? Unlike most dreams, this one has never diminished. It's as clear in my mind today as it was in 2001 when I had the dream. That alone tells me it's from God - yes, I know God despite what you read on this blog. I'm just a believer who's feet of clay extends past my belly button.

I hesitate to provide any insight into SeaTree here where everybody can read it, especially brain-locked screen writers. Someone must have peeked into my mind and came up with the idea for the "Heroes" television series and the new movie "Jumper". I might need to consult an attorney to protect SeaTree with an intellectual copywrite. See how desperate we've become to find a good story?

Maybe in my free time between working 9-10 days at the office and 5-6 hours at night at the theater and running my daughters to the hospital, sleep-overs, and the shopping mall I can post a few ideas so you'll have something to look forward to when SeaTree hits the big screen and I will no longer have to pick up behind pigs.

The Water Horse - 3 Buckets

Maybe it's me, but I wonder about things - like how does a water horse go from an egg to the size of a dinosaur in a couple of weeks and not die within a month? I mean, if I were born on Christmas Eve and here it is the first week of January and I'm already a young adult, wouldn't I be a senior citizen by the end of the month and returned to dust by mid-February? You would think that a screenwriter would be able to come up with a better way of bonding a little boy with a giant dinofish (that's a new word I've created. It's trademarked, so don't use it).

Aside from that, Water Horse is a genteel version of Free Willy incarnated as a Loch Ness monster. It's a family movie, which means parents will buy a lot of those overpriced kid's packs, which the kid will promptly spill as soon as they reach out to lower their seat. Most often, I find the greasy trays behind the seats because a kid can't get out of their seats without first putting their trays in the seat next to them. As soon as they take their hands off the tray, it falls in the crack between the seat and the chair back.

Did you know that parents are trying to drown their kids in popcorn butter? It's true. In a one-inch deep plastic tray that contains only about two handfuls of popcorn to start with, I'm finding a half inch of butter - enough to clog the arteries of the entire family.

Film makers know this is going on, yet they continue to turn out these killer kid's movies and family films. Theater management knows this is happening, but do they come up with a healthier (and less messy) alternative? Nope. Popcorn is cheap - even if people in Mexico can't get enough corn to make their tacos. You would think that Congress would pass legislation requiring theaters to offer low-fat alternatives, just as they've done in school lunch programs. What's wrong with a bag of apple slices or a box of raisins - aside from the fact they're no fun to eat? Where are those pills they used to tell us about that replace an entire meal? Theaters could install aroma canisters that would release the scents of hot, buttered popcorn and chocolate. When I was growing up we could buy these straws that, when dipped in milk, produced flavors ranging from chocolate milk to strawberry or banana. Why not have straws that produce the flavor of Coke, Hi-C, and Sprite? With a little imagination we could save a lot of money and mess if we just sold tablets, scents, and flavored straws.

The Water Horse is a cute movie - if only it didn't attract kids, things would be so much easier.

One Missed Call - Two Buckets

What would it be like to learn how and when you're going to die? Beats me. I didn't watch the movie. And neither has most movie goers. It seems that the majority of viewers who watch this movie bought the ticket because the wait time for this movie's start was less than the more popular I Am Legend, The Great Debaters or National Treasure. As such, the auditorium was easy to clean after the handful of people left. I've given it the second highest rating based on how the audience left the theater, not on the quality of the film. The only reason it got two buckets is because some jerk left his spit cup in the drink holder. Why not just take a crap in the center aisle while you're at it!

Perhaps it's the cold weather combined with One Missed Call being the only new release (at my theater) this week. I'm certain that will change next week when Bucket List, First Sunday and a couple other new releases hit the theater. I'm so thrilled that First Sunday is coming to my theater (not!) ( - as Borat would say). My feet were killing me last night, the dumpsters were overflowing again, and the GM told us that a new Tyler Perry film was coming next month - Meet the Browns. I love Tyler Perry - it's his fans I have problems with.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah - One Missed Call - it won't matter in the scheme of eternity if this is one movie you decide to skip. Thank you for removing your trash, and if you use tobacco, please swallow.

The Trash Dumpster - A Portal To Hell

The waste management specialists (trash collectors) empty our four dumpsters three times a week. In spite of this, we’re often forced to stack bags of trash along the sides and behind the dumpsters because moviegoers create more trash than four dumpsters can handle. Multiply these twelve overflowing containers per week times 52 weeks, and our one theater is dumping over a million pounds of popcorn, soda, and paper into the local landfill every year. There are probably a dozen other theaters in the area doing the same thing. No wonder the dump has a flock of sea gulls hovering over it all the time – although I understand that the oil we cook the popcorn in is toxic to birds.

Ushers use two large wheeled containers, called banana boats, to remove trash from the theater between each showing. The trash bags leak like a sieve. I’m going to try to remember to look at the manufacturer and post it here so you won’t waste your money on their defective products – just another invaluable service provided you by the Dirty Movie Critic.

The dumpster doors are at chest height, thus when you lift a bag of trash (sometimes it takes two ushers if the bag contains a lot of soda cups), the bottom of the bag aims a stream of soda directly at the bottom button on our polo shirt, so thoughtfully provided by theater management. We ought to be issued HAZMAT suits and face shields. As bad as loading the dumpsters is, cleaning up the mess left by the dump trucks is a task those who work the day shift really hate. We have no shovels, only a tiny broom and a cheap plastic dustpan to scoop up the refuse that falls over the sides of the truck. Yesterday there was a huge pile of unpopped corn kernels in front of the dumpster. Since they’re cooked in oil, stepping over the slippery mess was like trying to walk on marbles. But that was only the beginning. The driver doesn’t always put the bins back in the exact same spot, and underneath these dumpsters reside a writhing mass of maggots, cockroaches, and fire ants. The stench is awful, because like our trash containers inside the theater, these bins are never washed out (we’re considering renegotiating our contract with our janitorial service because the theater is beginning to smell like the dumpsters.) The theater does not provide water hoses so that the ushers can clean them either.

In warmer weather, ushers must carefully approach the dumpsters so that we don’t upset the bees and wasps swarming around the sweet, buttery slop inside. Opening a dumpster door is a scary thing because you never know what will fly out and sting you in the face. Any sudden movement, such as swinging a heavy trash bag up and into the dumpster is bound to piss off any insects caught underneath. They talk to one another before suffocating beneath the stinking trash and the next time the usher comes out with a load of trash, a swarm of angry bees dive-bombs the unsuspecting, helpless, underpaid human, exacting revenge for the accidental slaying of their relatives. After a couple such attacks, most ushers refuse to bring the trash any closer than the walls around the dumpster; and feral cats, opossums, and raccoons tear into the cheap bags and leave an even bigger mess until management succumbs to pressure and purchases insect foggers that work just long enough to get most of the mess cleaned up.

On any given summer night, one can follow a trail of ants along the walls of the theater, out the side entrance and along the curb to discover a family reunion numbering in the millions around the dumpsters. Ushers have petitioned management to smuggle into the country several hundred anteaters. We could chain one in each trash bin in each auditorium, another in the syrup room, another in the supply room where the chocolate candy is kept, and a dozen or so around the dumpster. Then we’d keep a couple dozen in reserve when those on the front line are overcome or have eaten so much they can’t scarf down another ant. With a careful rotation schedule and some R&R watching movies like Alvin and the Chipmunks and The Water Horse, we ought to be able to control our pest problem until cold weather arrives to help out.

One other thing about the dumpster. There is a ramp next to the dumpster, down which we roll our large containers of trash. It’s also a parking space, but I would advise you not to use it, as sometimes our carts are so heavy they slam into the vehicle blocking our exit. There’s also a chance that your vehicle will roll through the slime left by countless cart loads of trash and it will attract some of our insect friends to explore your vehicle. Don’t park in our exit ramp, or we’re not responsible for any damages should you ignore this warning!

I Am Legend - 5 Tubs

I love the concept of being the last guy on earth – or at least in town; though I would have chosen to move south to Atlanta or Miami where it doesn’t get so cold. It would be neat to be able to drive off the lot in a beefed up Mustang and not have to sign my life away. Personally, if I had a couple million dark-seekers after my blood, I’d drive a tank. And what’s up with only canines and humans being infected with the virus? How come the monkeys didn’t get it? Hollywood just proved how far off Charles Darwin really was on his theory of evolution and our ascent from apes.

Saying that, this movie is a bitch to clean up. Lots of people came to see this movie and lots of people left their trash in their seats. After the 7 PM showing Saturday night, it took three ushers and two managers fifteen minutes to pick up the biggest trash and haul out four forty-five gallon leaking plastic bags of trash. I hate it when I break a sweat cleaning a movie, because combined with my sweat and all that butter and soda that gets spilled on my clothes when I have to toss those heavy bags into the over-flowing dumpster, I stink. Every night I have to wash the one shirt the theater provides me. The butter stains won’t come out! UV rays may be toxic to the dark-seekers, but so is fermented soft drink syrup and popcorn butter to theater ushers. The employment span of a theater usher is only slightly longer than a door gunner during the VietNam war.

The Golden Compass - 3 Tubs

A disappointing alternative to the Narnia series, especially with actors like Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig, and Sam Elliott. Perhaps it’s because this movie attracts more adults than kids, that it is only moderately filthy when moviegoers depart. Unfortunately, it’s one of those that a handful of viewers stay until the very last credit is played, thus holding up the ushers from cleaning the other movies that get out at the same time as this one.

We were told that someone bought a protest permit during the opening weekend, but we never saw the protestor. I don’t know if it was an over zealous Christian objecting to the author’s atheistic hatred of the Catholic Church, or whether it was a fan of the author upset that Hollywood removed most of the anti-religion from the movie (just as they did from Narnia). Hollywood cannot afford to continue making those politically correct and left-leaning movies and make a profit, so they must sometimes compromise; in this case the movie attracted neither liberal or conservative, just a bunch of fence-sitters who were disappointed we didn’t have another Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings blockbuster at Christmas. Overall, it’s been a disappointing year for us movie lovers. Golden Compass is just another lukewarm attempt to siphon dollars from a shrinking middle class audience.

Aliens vs Predators: Requiem - 2 Tubs

I suppose if more people were coming to see this movie that it would earn up to four tubs; but the truth is that it’s no better than the first meeting of these two villains. Even though it’s a movie that attracts mostly guys, it must attract guys who only have enough money for the price of admission and an occasional beer they snuck in – which is easier to do during the winter than summer. I sat and watched the first half hour of this movie while on break and pulled for the Predator, who despite his dreadlocks, at least has the appearance of a warrior – the Alien on the other hand looks like a cross between an otter and a dragon. I have no idea how it turns out. I would neither use a free pass nor purchase the DVD when it comes out based on what I saw in the first half hour. The movie is filmed mostly in the dark so we won’t notice how lame the special effects are. Fortunately, viewers have no interest in the credits and the ushers are able to clean this auditorium before the stupid songs from L.A.’s top 100 unsigned artists blasts at us through the speakers and we can’t hear ourselves complaining about the mess we’re having to clean.

The Great Debaters - 4 Tubs

I wish that Denzel could write a speech that would motivate his fans to dispose of their trash after the movie is over. On one side, there is an argument that paying sixty bucks for four people to see this movie justifies leaving your mess behind you. It’s part of the price of admission. On the other side, the hero – Denzel, in this case since kids who’ve never been taught to clean up after themselves can’t speak from experience – argues that the poor usher has to slave almost a week to earn what that family of four just threw down for entertainment. Where is the pride from taking responsibility and doing the right thing? How much of a sacrifice is it to bend down and pick up that three quarters full tub of popcorn you didn’t eat, that brown paper bag with an empty tall boy inside, and that plastic Target bag you used to smuggle in candy that sold for less than half of what the theater charges, and toting that burden just a few steps further – to the trash receptacle which is on your journey out of the theater anyway? Personal responsibility might not eradicate all the evil in this world, but it would help create more jobs, reduce pollution and save the world from global warming – a small price for those with the courage to stand up against the injustice of filth.

On opening day, this movie sold more tickets than any other movie besides National Treasure; and it took just about as long to clean. The list of contraband is endless in this movie – beer cans, chicken bones (I’m not exaggerating here), more vodka bottles, dirty socks - not sure what that’s about, and one of those French caps (probably belonging to an accomplice from the National Treasure movie). Unfortunately, lost coins are about as rare in this film as dollars are in my bank account.

Charlie Wilson's War - 3 Tubs

From what I’ve gathered from people who have seen this movie (it’s on my list on one of my nights off) – this is a powerful film, even if attendance hasn’t been that great. “August Rush” was another sleeper that people overlooked but will probably earn an Oscar nomination.

This movie allows Tom Hanks to return to his roots of comedy in a few scenes in this movie, while at the same time tackling serious issues which lead up to empowering the same terrorists we're fighting today. It's a good change from his flop in DaVinci Code. Julia Roberts, once able to dazzle me with that huge smile in ‘Pretty Woman’ is starting to show her age a bit. ‘Charlie Wilson’s War could be perceived as one of those ‘political movies’ that usually ends up flopping at the box office, but I think it’s more substantive than those films and worth viewing.

Cleaning this theater is a crapshoot: one time it’s a mess; the next time you can’t tell anyone consumed anything. I did find two small airline bottles of vodka the other night. And sixty cents. Not enough to buy a tank or a jet airplane, but it’s going in my lottery fund instead of fund future terrorists.

Sweeney Todd - 2 Tubs

I suppose this depressing piece of crap movie earned it’s superior rating simply because watching Johnny Depp slicing throats with a straight razor causes people to lose their appetites. Or perhaps it’s the poor quality of the singing from all the actors; or perhaps it’s the sort of depressing movie that should never be released at Christmas time: but hey, since when did Tim Burton or Hollywood for that matter ever act responsibly? No doubt some people come to see this movie simply because it stars Johnny Depp. Both women and men are attracted to his feminine features, regardless of whether he's a pirate, a Frankenstein clone with hedge clippers for hands, or a barber with hair like the Bride of Frankenstein.

The audience is like Ivory soap – 99% pure white. I saw several senior citizens, no doubt dragged along by their paranoid-schizophrenic grandchildren, leave the theater with ashen faces – disturbed by both the movie and with trying to understand why their kin wanted to see it in the first place. I’ll bet they revised their wills the next day lest these precious grandchildren consider whacking them for some unknown reason.

People leaving the theater are quiet; many sit and watch all the stupid credits to see what demented people turned out this story of a barber bent on revenge for something I never found out because I wouldn’t go see this movie on a free pass. But hey, if you're into bad music and depressing stories without happy endings - you might like Sweeney Todd. However, I’ve got better things to do with my free time – like sleep. At least it offers ushers a chance to catch their breath before tackling the trash left in the larger auditoriums.

P.S. I Love You - 1 Tub

Finally, a movie where my face is moist from tears instead of sweat. P.S. I Love You is one of those chick-flicks (I like ‘em) that attract mostly women (some quite attractive). Attractive women don’t eat a lot of popcorn, and if they get a drink, it’s Dasani water with a cap they know how to screw on when they’re not drinking. As a result, cleaning up after this film is a breeze – even when it sells out as it did both evening shows this past Saturday. This is a film that I enjoy lingering in while making theater checks – it’s funny, romantic (like me), actually has a plot, and most importantly, easy to clean. Hilary Swank is beautiful with longer hair and less muscular than she appeared in ‘Million Dollar Baby’. I didn’t pay attention to the guys starring in this movie. Even the couple of guys who were drug along by their girlfriends (husbands wouldn’t do it for their wives) came out with smiles on their faces. I’m sure they picked up some tips about how to make their girlfriends happy, as long as it’s just short of dying.

As my friend Ahkmed, who runs the Marble Slab at Northgate Mall, told my daughter this past weekend, "Look for the positive in even the most negative circumstances." Good advice, when it comes to choosing to live in the past or choosing to have hope in the future. P.S. I Love You is about another chance: another chance to love again, another chance to be happy, and another chance to go back and pick up that trash you left under your theater seat before I get there and call down curses on you and your children and their's. Just do it. You'll feel better if you do (and guilty if you don't).

On the negative side, films that don’t sell concessions tend to not remain long in theaters. It’s all about the money. So see it now or you’ll be waiting for the DVD. ‘P.S. I Love You’ gets the highest rating: One tub!

The Lobby - An Usher's Nightmare

Theater auditoriums and bathrooms aren’t the only opportunities to wreak havoc for moviegoers. Just beyond the concession stand lays a wide expanse so orderly it makes your teeth ache. No Zen garden this, nor tranquil meditation spot with artfully trained bonsai trees and sand raked in perfectly straight lines. Americans, and our illegal alien population, are incapable of leaving this pristine environment for others to enjoy, so they spread popped corn seed haphazardly across this landscape. Other moviegoers, more intent on getting a good seat, trample said seed underfoot until it is as flat as paper and as light as a feather – and difficult to sweep off our purple and green carpets.

There are some upscale theaters, like the one at which I am employed, that offers patrons the opportunity to soak their popcorn with as much butter and salt as they want at a separate counter. Usually this area is ankle deep in popcorn as gluttons shake their bags vigorously to settle the salt – which doesn’t work as popcorn salt is so fine it sticks to whatever it touches first. Man, being an ‘intelligent’ species, has learned that most theaters offer small courtesy cups for water from the fountain just outside the restrooms. These cups have been determined to function as receptacles for popcorn butter and salt. As a result, I often encounter stacks of these courtesy cups under the seats, usually after almost busting my backside while slipping on butter spilled onto the floor rather than on popcorn.

The other night, while waiting to sweep up the popcorn behind the butter stand, a group of three chunky teenage girls and a tall, longhaired truck driver type I assume was their dad bellied up to the station. I could tell by looking at them that they weren’t from around here, probably from Granville or Vance counties from their redneck ensembles. Each girl carried a tub of popcorn – which probably explains why their bellies were larger than their boobs. They pushed and shoved each other to soak their popcorn in our fake butter (I’m not sure but I think it’s Crisco oil with a yellow food coloring added and some kind of coagulant to give it the appearance of melted butter – don’t hold me to that but given the fact that everything else we use in the theater is the cheapest stuff available, I seriously doubt that our butter ever came from the udders of a cow.)

Anyway, these girls giggled and shoved and managed to spill enough butter on the floor to turn it into an NHL hockey rink. Then they pushed over to the four ‘seasoned’ salt containers and each grabbed a courtesy cup, which they proceeded to fill with a mixture of all the flavored salts. Normally a dash of this salt is enough to cause a coronary, but these girls used enough to embalm themselves. Next, they reached up to grab napkins, not one or two, but twenty or thirty napkins each. I suspected from their less than affluent attire that they might use these in place of sanitary napkins back in Vance County. Then their father comes up with four large drinks and he starts grabbing himself twenty or thirty napkins himself and I wondered if the Henderson Wal-Mart was out of cheap toilet paper. Not having been there for the ten minutes the girls fought over butter and salt, he told them to grab extras of each, which they did by starting all over again filling courtesy cups with the remaining salt and probably sucking the butter machine dry.

In all, it took the four of them close to fifteen minutes to prepare their feast before entering the sanctums of “Alvin and the Chipmunks”. I watched them to see where they were going because I knew I’d need a mop to clean up all the butter they were bound to spill on the floor. Sure enough, once the movie was over, I found four seats on the left side of the theater covered in spilled popcorn, spilled sodas, spilled butter, and it was all frosted in popcorn salt. Of course they didn’t take their trash with them – they had just paid $6.50 each for their matinee tickets, another $50 bucks for the concessions – probably the dad’s entire government subsidy check for the month – why shouldn’t they expect us overpaid ushers earning $6.50 an hour to bus behind them?

It took seven minutes to clean that one row of four seats. I felt sorry for the next patrons who had to sit there because we only had time to mop up the liquid, but not time to rinse so that the floor wouldn’t be so sticky it would suck the soles off their shoes when they got up to leave. I felt sorry for myself too, because my mother taught me at a young age how to clean behind myself; and this poor, underprivileged, white trash, broken family were obviously denied such an upbringing. Yet, here I was, cleaning up after pigs that could care less about respect for themselves or for those of us who work two jobs so we can dream about living the American Dream.

If I can hang in there long enough, I’ll make general manager of this theater, and the first thing I’m going to do is to put the butter back behind the concession stand, and get rid of the courtesy cups. The next time you’re in the theater, with your arms loaded in $25 worth of junk food, a cell phone nuzzled between your ear and your shoulder as you hunt through your pockets for the ticket stub to see which auditorium your movie is in, look back and see if you’ve left a trail of popcorn in your wake. If so, stop immediately, gently place everything in a safe place against the wall where other cattle won’t kick them over, and get down on your hands and knees and suck up every last kernel from that smelly carpet so that I can concentrate on cleaning the auditoriums and bathrooms. Thank you for your patronage, enjoy the movie, and please come back soon!

National Treasure - 5 Tubs

Clues to the lost treasure and a global conspiracy were first spotted outside Auditorium 1 where a pile of spilled popcorn led me to believe the perpetrator walked with a limp, possibly from jumping from some height while trying to escape authorities. The trail led beyond the door, up the ramp, only to be lost among a veritable sea of popcorn, sodas, candy wrappers and courtesy cups. I searched from one end of the auditorium to the other, discovering a French Connection in the form of a Bojangles French fry bag, it’s greasy contents scattered beneath a seat, which upon raising I found a wad of chewing gum wrapped in some sort of parchment, which when lit by my UV flashlight revealed a secret code that I'm going to work on the first day I have off from work.

Alas, the sheer destruction resulting from a ‘family film’ made it impossible to locate the guilty culprit. I must admit that I entertained the idea of assassinating those who had left yet another mess on the heels of Alvin & The Chipmunks which had released at the same time from Auditorium 6. There were several items of contraband, in addition to the French fries – a large bottle of hot sauce and the empty popcorn tub drenched in a greasy orange slime; two rows down, my broom pushed an empty fifth of vodka – supposedly the drink of choice among alcoholic movie fans. Under the front row seats were plastic food trays from a nearby French restaurant. I became more convinced that the person(s) I sought were European, or possibly Russian, or Spanish, or from UNC Chapel Hill.

I did find a treasure of sorts: three quarters, four dimes, four pennies, and two nickels – enough to buy a quart of gas so I could get home and rest my aching feet. I’ll continue to search for my treasure in the darkest recesses of theater auditoriums. This is money that I use to buy lottery tickets from the nearby convenience store. Someday I’ll be able to quit cleaning up behind pigs and produce my own movie about how a middle aged man working two jobs finds love over the Internet, they meet and enjoy PG-rated sex, get married (in that order), and raise a bunch of kids and teach them how to pick up after themselves, be responsible, and vote conservative. Kevin Costner will win an Oscar for best actor for his role in my film. It will be a blockbuster – and there will be a vignette at the end where Morgan Freeman, staring in his familiar role as God, tells the viewers to take their damn trash with them when they exit the theater. In the meantime, I've got to figure out how to remove that gum from inside my pants pocket without tearing the parchment in which it was hidden.