I’ve seen only eight of the movies in the American Film Institute’s Top 100 list. I have absolutely no excuse for this. As Tim McNally noted yesterday, everyone has his or her passions, and movies just aren’t one of mine. I’ve seen a few cult classics, such as Heathers and Clerks, but somehow I never got around to Casablanca or The Sound of Music or even Star Wars or Indiana Jones.
However, the list of high-quality classic movies I haven’t seen is about to be shorter by one –– because I just bought my tickets to see the midnight showing of The Human Centipede tonight at the Prytania.
I don’t know exactly how everyone in my office got obsessed with it all at once; sometimes we’re as capricious as a bunch of third-graders, bouncing from such fads as Silly Bandz to Forever 21 jewelry to huge sunglasses with the zeal of people two decades younger. We watched the Eminem and Rihanna video about eight times in one day, and we couldn’t stop talking about that Rolling Stone True Blood cover. And then, someone –– I’m blaming you, Jordan DeFrank –– happened on the trailer for The Human Centipede.
It’s disgusting and disturbing: The premise is that a deranged German surgeon holds three people captive and then attaches them –– via their digestive systems –– together into a “human centipede.” We were repulsed and actually a little queasy after just the trailer … so of course we began to search the Internet to see if the movie was playing anywhere near us so we could watch the whole thing.
And lo and behold: It’s playing at the Prytania tonight and tomorrow, a special midnight showing. I don’t think I’ve been to a midnight movie since I went to Rocky Horror in college, but with Ruby on vacation with her dad and her grandparents, I have no curfew and no reason to miss it.
I used to think that 30 seemed really old. But I will be 30 in less than a month, and I feel like I’m about as mature as I was 15 years ago. I have more responsibilities but not a bit more maturity.
And maybe that’s one of the benefits of living here: You don’t ever have to grow up. You can play dress up year-round, go crazy at parades and generally live life with the unbridled enthusiasm of a 3-year-old –– and no one bats an eye.
If I were a real grown-up, I’d probably spend Friday night sipping a sensible glass of wine, snacking on air-popped popcorn and catching up on all of the good movies I really should see if I want to be a functioning member of society. (It’s a Wonderful Life? How have I never seen It’s a Wonderful Life? Or All About Eve? It’s got my name in it, for Pete’s sake!) And then I’d be in bed long before midnight so that I could wake up early and catch up on my mending or something.
Instead: The Human Centipede at midnight. And I have no qualms about this.
What are your weekend plans?
