I don’t get excited about many upcoming movies, but the ones I do get excited about really get me panting. I get like a teenage girl about to lose her virginity. I’m looking forward to it, but I’m kind of hesitant because I don’t really know what to expect. I think it may hurt a bit, but I still want to be pleasantly surprised.
It usually hurts.
As of this draft, I’m looking forward to “Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith” and “The Devil’s Rejects.” I want to see those sequels so bad that I can taste blood in my mouth, and I’d chew off Tom Green’s other t******e for a chance to see an early screening. Seeing the teaser trailers only increases my excitement level, too. When I become a realist about them, though, I know that I’m building them up to a level they can’t possibly hope to meet. I’m sabotaging them before I even see them. Usually that’s the job of the marketers, but I seem more than happy to do it for them.
I like the feeling of anticipating the cinematic equivalent of Christmas. I love counting down the days to the opening credits. I’m the kind of fool you notice craning his head during a trailer to see if maybe I can actually see past a character on the screen to maybe catch a glimpse of another character, as if the image is three dimensional. (I can’t be the only one who does this.) I love reading the interviews with the actors and directors, too. In fact, it was one such interview with Jared Leto promoting “Requiem for a Dream” that moved that film from my “See When I Have Time” list to the “See ASAP” list. And while most of the movies I want to see don’t do a lot of product tie-ins (“Star Wars” being the exception), I’d love to see a select few KFC commercials pushing Captain Spaulding meal toys. I love all of this, and it almost always screws me in the end.
There was a time when I vowed I’d never again get excited about a movie release. I made that vow so I wouldn’t end up disappointed. I think I actually did that after seeing “The Lost Boys.” Trying to live up to that vow left me feeling pretty damn empty, though. How could I not be excited about seeing the third chainsaw massacre movie set in Texas? (Which turned out to be another disappointment, though I didn’t cause that one.) How could I not want to read as much as possible about my favorite directors and actors and their upcoming projects? I couldn’t do it, and I gave in like a priest trying not to touch an altar boy. I felt a little dirty about it, but in the end it was immensely satisfying.
I don’t make any excuses these days. I am unapologetic about getting giddy while talking about the movies I really want to see. There isn’t a lot of them, though. Probably only two or three at any given time. Most of them let me down. A few, like “Man on the Moon,” actually exceed my expectations. And that’s one more reason I’ll never give up. There’s nothing more thrilling than seeing a film you’ve been waiting months for and having it blow you away. Don’t know the feeling? Think of how fans of the “The Matrix” felt when the first sequel came out. Now picture the exact opposite reaction. There you go.
Now, what’s Gaspar Noe up to next?
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