i eventually took my usual seat in the middle of the top row and watched the rest of the tiered seating quickly fill up. i was mortified to witness a cackling gaggle of about 10 women in their 20's-30's (at least two of them pregnant and all of them blonde) move in to take up the remaining seats to my left as well as seats on the two rows in front of us. vishvakarman ran in at the last minute looking a bit peaked from his jog as the lights lowered and the previews began. one of those fucking bitches about three down refused to shut the hell up or even lower her voice. my attempts to relieve her of her overbearing chattiness ranged from the polite sh. ...sh. shhhhhh.... shhHHHH! to the more obvious that bitch needs to shut the fuck up. i had hoped the girl next to me would relay my message, but she didn't. instead, she made a call to her SO to see if he was still golfing.
i rather liked it. i have heard several people say it wasn't as laugh-out-loud funny as they thought it would be. one person even said she thought it was going to be more of an 80's movie. i choose to believe she meant it wasn't 80's-kitsch or 80's-spoof because i was hard-pressed to find clues that it was not, in fact, actually based in the 80's.
i awarded points for clever presentation of opening credits. it's good to put in some effort there in my opinion (see: amelie). there were also points for personal nostalgia since the mini jam box used during the Happy Hands performance was none other than the QT12... my first jam box. it was special for me. mom would be happy to know our avocado-green family crock pot also made a cameo.
summary: the fingers of napoleon dynamite caress bare shoulders with persistent waves of subtle humor.
then vishvakarman unexpectedly unloaded some smelly stuff on me over by his car.