So you landed a date, managed to find eight bucks in your roommate’s laundry and now you want to catch a horror flick on the big screen. Right off the bat, you’re saving money because you’re in one of those trendy, egalitarian relationships, so your date will be paying for his or her own ticket. Equality? Eureka!
You pay for your movie ticket and move into the Starkville theater’s lobby where you and 50 other moviegoers are packed in worse than a Junction Porta John on game day. Now you must resist the seductive allure of Gummi Worms and Skittles displayed like jewelry behind glass. You must resist temptation because tasting the rainbow will set you back another four bucks that you need for basic sustenance: Ramen and Natty.
You make it to your seat, and while waiting through the endless stream of previews for Nicolas Cage movies you hope to never see, you wonder why all movie theater floors are so sticky. Suddenly, your question is answered when a klutz trips on the theater’s dark stairs, which appear to be sparsely lit by Christmas tree lights, and spills his overpriced soda, coating the floor with a thin layer of high-fructose corn syrup.
Finally, the feature presentation is shown – and boy does it disappoint worse than an M. Night Shyamalan movie twist.
Allow me to digress – M. Night, what happened, man? “The Sixth Sense” and “Unbreakable” were great movies with all-star casts. Then, unfortunately, “The Happening” happened to get the green light and turned out to be a yawner of a flick that succeeded in prophesying dire forecasts of ecological disaster but failed to be good cinema. If I want to watch something that makes me feel bad about how driving my Humvee is ruining my children’s future, I’ll watch MSNBC or, better yet, something directed by Al Gore.
Be right back, I need to step outside and stoke the 50-gallon drumfire that I’m burning my bottled-water waste in.
Now where were we? Oh, yes, the movies.
Let’s put our global warming induced, apocalyptic future aside because for now you are stuck watching a cliché horror movie for another 59 minutes. That’s when your greedy genius strikes: You realize that Starkville is the perfect setting for a terrible horror film. You picture the dramatic trailer in your head, and the late voiceover artist Don LaFontaine himself — who is now “in a world” where he can rest in peace- – narrates the preview.
Your movie trailer begins with an upbeat score and four MSU students, two guys and two girls, happily driving to the Noxubee Refuge, with the top down to their Jeep. LoFontaine, in his deepest range, begins the narration:
“This summer,” he says, “from the critically acclaimed director M. Night Shyamalan, comes ‘The Refuge.'”
“Four best friends who thought that nothing could separate their friendship unknowingly drive into an ancient curse, undisturbed for decades,” he says as the teens turn the jeep onto a shady side road, while the music morphs into a single minor piano note that steadily croons in the background.
“This is going to be great, y’all,” says one of the girls, the stereotypical hardbody blonde. “I’m so glad my uncle is letting us use his cabin for the weekend.”
The other girl is a nerdy brunette who turns out to be gorgeous when, later in the film, she loses her glasses mid-chase. The two boys are similarly type casted, one as the jock and the other as the blueblood hero. With such character depth, it is destined to be a fan favorite in the 13- to 18-year-old, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” crowd.
The trailer progresses as the quartet settles into the uncle’s cobweb-infested cabin for their getaway weekend, but their weekend is haunted by a toothless redneck, a prophesying elderly woman and a creepy little girl who reappears every time the director needs a cheap scare.
The trailer climaxes with the main score from “Requiem for a Dream,” and as the brunette is being dragged off screen, her screams fade and the movie’s release date, written in blood, drips down the screen.
Mr. Shyamalan, I’ve got the script ready, I’ll keep my phone on vibrate and I hope to hear an offer from you soon.
Reflector readers, be sure to catch the nonexistent follow-up article to this one entitled “Ten PG-13 horror films that are actually scary” in next Tuesday’s Reflector, which won’t be printed.
Matt Morgan is a sophomore majoring in sociology. He can be contacted at [email protected].