Last night, I put on my "mother of a teenager" shoes (Cute little sequined flip flops, btw) and took my daughter to a midnight showing of the final 'arry Pottuh movie.
See how I did that? Wasn't that cute?
No?
It wasn't?
Leave me alone, I've had 4 hours of sleep and damn it, that was fucking adorable.
Anyway, yes. I sat for two hours in a crowded theater, put on clever Potter-esque 3-D glasses and then watched what is being billed as the last movie that will ever. be. made. EVER, people. Not really, but jeez, the build-up on this is killing me.
And lo, it was good. It was actually great. I think. That may be the sleep deprivation talking. Alan Rickman has deserved far more acclaim than he's gotten for being the absolute embodiment of Snape. I WEPT, unashamedly, at his two major scenes in this movie. He made the movie for me.
Okay, movie was great, had actors and props and everything, yay. Now I'm going to actually get to my point. This was my first midnight showing. I'm not a night-owl, by any means. I'm also not a "need to see it, first rattle outta the hat" sort of girl. I like to wait until the crowds have died down, see it a relatively empty theater, or better yet, rent it. But this is the last of these movies, and Drama Queen is of the Potter Generation. These kids grew up on these books, with Harry, Hermione and Ron and attended midnight release parties for the books. (WTF with all the midnight shit, media moguls? What is your problem with 7 pm? I would pay more for a 7 pm release, hand to heaven.) They identify with him, both on the page and the movie screen. It was midnight release or nothing! THE LAST HARRY POTTER, MOTHER! THE LAST! LAST!
She wasn't dubbed Drama Queen for her acting skills alone, yo.
And that is how I wound up at a jam-packed, cinematic E-VENT!!! What a freak show. I say that with affection, love and more than a little eye-rolling. I get the newly-graduated, sorority sisters, engaging in a little PG-13 fun. And I really enjoyed the flocks of Hogwart robes. But I'm going to draw the line at slutty Slytherin/Griffindor school-girl uniforms. That was a little much, ladies. Though I will give props to the poison green bra lace, peeking out from the artfully tied shirt and the perfectly matching striped stockings. Apparently Hot Topic sells a kit. Charming.
Heh, get it? Charming? Cripes, you guys have no sense of humor when I've only had 4 hours of sleep.
There are a lot of negatives to the midnight showing. Standing in line for hours, then sitting in a seat for hours more? Yuck. Sitting cheek to jowl with strangers in strange garb? Um, no. Not getting home until 3:30 am? That's a big ole hell no.
BUT. But. There is an incredible sense of camraderie and excitement at these showings. I had conversations with several fun and interesting people about the books, the movies, theater and life in general. People are amped and joined in a common adventure. There is (forgive the turn of phrase) magic in the air. The applause at critical moments, the cheers and jeers, they are fun. It is lovely to share this last moment of a particular cultural phenomenon with a large group of friends, family and aliens. Am I sorry I went. No. Not at all.
But I ain't doing that shit ever again. Mama likes her sleep.
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Welcome to My World
It's a crazy one. Here's the guide.
Mr. Clairol: My darling husband and love of my life. He's a mechanic, sported (at different times in his life) a permed mullet and a bleached platinum spike job. Weird and wonderful, just the was I like 'em.
Drama Queen: My seventeen year old daughter who is frighteningly brilliant and gorgeous to boot. Of course, I am her mother.
Missy Hoohaw: The seven year old daughter. She loves animals and roughhousing and earned her name by being a 28 year old Marine in a little girl's body. No, she doesn't swear and drink. But she can run twenty miles in the rain and give a mighty Hoo-rah.
Big Red: Our five year old son, who is no longer redheaded but still retains the 'tude. He's got a healthy temper and the sweetest smile this side of the Mississippi, so it evens out. I was worried about defending him from his sisters at first. Now, I worry about the girls.
This is my life. Try not to be too jealous.
Mr. Clairol: My darling husband and love of my life. He's a mechanic, sported (at different times in his life) a permed mullet and a bleached platinum spike job. Weird and wonderful, just the was I like 'em.
Drama Queen: My seventeen year old daughter who is frighteningly brilliant and gorgeous to boot. Of course, I am her mother.
Missy Hoohaw: The seven year old daughter. She loves animals and roughhousing and earned her name by being a 28 year old Marine in a little girl's body. No, she doesn't swear and drink. But she can run twenty miles in the rain and give a mighty Hoo-rah.
Big Red: Our five year old son, who is no longer redheaded but still retains the 'tude. He's got a healthy temper and the sweetest smile this side of the Mississippi, so it evens out. I was worried about defending him from his sisters at first. Now, I worry about the girls.
This is my life. Try not to be too jealous.
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3 comments:
This mama likes hers as well which is why we went to the 9:00am showing this morning. Loved it and I too cried at Snape's demise. So glad to know that there are others out there that can see and appreciate the hoopla that is Harry Potter. Great summary of your night...
Well said !!! While you were waiting for Harry, I was sitting in an outdoor theater freezing my a** off and wishing I was at home in bed! Anne, was a little much...but the little girl who played her was amazing! And so my trek to the theater will be Monday night to see the final Harry Potter Movie...I am sure I will cry too!
You are brave. I think my daughter has been to every mid-night showing of HP other than the first, and I have never gone with her and endured the madness. Nope. I'm perfectly content to see it a week or two later. When she was younger, I dropped her off with a group of her friends and picked her up. Now she drives herself.
In reference to the last movie, she told me, "I feel like I am watching the end of my childhood." Pretty much sums up what kids in the 17-21 year old age group feel, I think.
Alan Rickman was phenomenal, and I agree he owned that film.
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