So..... a few hours ago I was walking down a theater aisle to find a single unoccupied seat-- much to my consternation the place was packed on a fucking Monday. I don't care that it was Labor Day, and they were showing the legendary "Maltese Falcon." What the fuck are all of you people doing in a hipster theater on a Monday?
Anyway, I proceeded to rush down the aisle and mutter, "what the fucking FUCK?"
I saw an unoccupied seat then proceeded to crouch down a few inches, saw the guy who I was seconds away from sitting next to, then muttered, "um... no."
The guy had an enormous forehead and extremely pinched facial features-- almost like his face couldn't withstand the weight of his brain.
Quentin Tarantino. Quentin. Fucking. Tarantino.
I had seen him at that theater-- his theater-- several times in the past, but I was never within a couple of feet of him.
And there he was, in all of his glory: just grinning broadly at a black and white cartoon that the theater was playing before the feature played. I proceeded to sit directly behind the seat that he was siting next to, so I basically watched "Maltese Falcon" (which I was watching for the third time and is one of my faves) with Quentin Tarantino sitting directly in front of me.
"The Maltese Falcon" has many funny pieces of dialogue. Tarantino laughed harder and more boisterously than anyone else in the theater-- again, this place was packed.
I began to think, "this man's film 'The Hateful Eight' is in post-production, and according to recent reports it's just half finished, yet he couldn't give a fuck. He has that much faith in his editors. He knows that it's out of his hands now and is just chilling."
It reminds me of something that adults tried to impart on me when I was a kid:
No comments:
Post a Comment