Mr. Husband, his best friend and I went to see Resident Evil: Restitution last night. It was pretty much what I expected. Zillions of zombies, shooting, blood n guts, and explosions. Zombies in Los Angeles, Zombies in Tokyo, Zombies in Red Square, etcetera, etcetera. Other than location, pretty much the same as the last 3 or 4 Resident Evil movies. I absolutely refuse to attend another one. Mainly because I’m sick and tired of seeing tentacles emerging from mouth of a character I thought was one of the good guys. Mila Jovovich is still rocks though. Have to throw that in there.
However, the main adventure of the evening was not on the screen. We walked into the 6:30 showing of the non 3D version because we don’t care for 3D gore. 2D gore is enough, thank you very much. The place was ghost town, we were the only patrons in the theatre. We chose seats in the center about half way up and settled in. Ah the bliss, no kid kicking the back of my seat or a couple in front simultaneously making out and texting through the entire movie. What could possible happen?
A few minutes later 2 portly women waddled in and wandered around the theatre as if having difficulty finding a seat. Eventually they chose seats, right in front of us, not 2 rows down or a little over, but right smack in front of us. In the otherwise completely empty theatre. One of them cheerfully announced to us that those were the best seats as if we’d have to understand. I thought “why certainly you stupid cow, and I’ll try not to get my foot stuck in your hair.” Knowing me and my tendency to shoot of my mouth, my 1st mistake was not evacuating to another seat immediately.
They sat down and one of them pulled out a 2 liter coke bottle and various other snacks obviously not purchased at the concession stand. I could understand. The amount of food they brought with them would have cost $150 in the theatre. Then she started thrashing around as if she were drowning, or perhaps trying to remove a poorly fitted girdle. I never did figure it out. Sometimes it’s best not to know. They eventually got situated.
About half way through the movie, as I was contemplating digging around in my purse for ear plugs to avoid permanent hearing loss, I noticed that wench number one kept turning around and glaring at Hubman. I was about to snap “what is your problem?” when she turned around and announced indignantly “excuse me, but that is very distracting.” What was Hubman’s crime you may ask? He was digging in his tiny 10 dollar packet of stale chocolate covered almonds and making a bit of noise.
At this point I lost it and leaned in about 4 inches from her face and yelled, “Seriously? No really, I mean SERIOUSLY? You decided to sit right in front of us, in an empty theatre and now YOU are going to complain about US????” She started babbled and bitching. I couldn’t hear what she was saying due to another on-screen explosion. I barked “just shut the hell up and watch the movie.” She gave me the finger, flailed around some more, then gave up and went back to watching the movie. I briefly considered going out to the snack bar and asking for the noisiest item on the menu, but decided against it. She should consider herself lucky. If I was a Zombie I’d have bitten her finger right off.
They behaved for the rest of the movie and we waited to see which direction they chose to exit and went in the opposite direction. I really miss theatre ushers. Those were the days – when jackasses were ejected from the theatre before patrons had to take matters into their own hands. If that jackass was me, who cares? Either way it worked.