1. I was lucky enough to see Star Wars in the theater when it came out. I cannot TELL you how many scifi & film fans I’ve talked to since who deeply regret never having seen it on the big screen, let alone having had the chance to see it before anyone really understood what it was, what it would do to genre film, how that effect would ripple out to mainstream cinema. To see Star Wars before you were prepared for anything remotely like it…it wasn’t an experience that could be duplicated by watching it at home, or by watching an indie theater big screen showing years later.
Fury Road is that experience.
Don’t miss seeing it on the big screen. Don’t be all those people who say, ‘Damn, I can’t believe I didn’t see this game changer action art-house rock opera (say it with me now) FUCKING MOVIE…in the theater.’
2. By this point I sit in strung anticipation silencing my phone and tucking away my purse…and when the first soundtrack cues hit the speakers I slide down in my seat so that all I can see is the screen. It feels like a friend, like a presence. I am transported.
This is ridiculous. No other piece of visual media has ever done this to me. A few rare and precious fics and books, but nothing on a screen. Nothing through speakers.
But I have surrendered. I don’t care that it seems ridiculous. I just don’t care. Because it makes me so deeply deeply happy.
3. I had to get my phone fixed before I went to the theater today. I ended up striding around the store with out flung arms describing the practical effects to the phone guys. I think I alarmed them. (one decided to go on that recommendation. the other dismissed the movie as whatevs)
4. More and more I see this complete polarization in reactions to the movie, and I find myself wondering how much of it stems from visual processing differences and how much of it arises from..hmm..for want of a better term I’ll have to say film literacy (no intent to sound snobbish - some people do not gain any enjoyment for movies by saturating themselves in commentary tracks and comparisons of cinematography and such. either you’re obsessed or you’re not. those who are not probably have more peace in their souls.).
I can completely see how people who process visuals in a different way than I do, could look at the movie and see ‘motion, sand, more motion, visually full of sameness. also? sand.’
i can also see how people who haven’t spent endless fascinated hours pouring over the language of film, the intricacies of building a visual story, the subtleties of character development in acting rather than scripting, could look at this movie and say, ‘Plot? what plot? Character differentiation? There was none!’ They respond to a different kind of story telling, and Fury Road doesn’t hit the beats they need.
reaction A: ‘all I saw was sand’
reaction B: ‘UNBELIEVABLE. WORK OF ART. [say it with me now] THIS FUCKING MOVIE’
…not many reactions in between.
5. Similarly, I keep reading reviews that dismiss the ongoing obsession so many of us have with Fury Road under the heading ‘it’s all about the women for them - that’s cool, whatever.’
This is one area where I feel pretty heated - because its NOT about the presence of fully developed women in this film, or the lack of gender slurs in this film, or the absence of microagressions of any kind in this film, or the lack of male-gaze camera work in this film, or even that it passes the Bechdel test, the Mako Mori test or any other test one could care to drum up that denotes excellent representation of women in film.
I don’t love this movie because of those things - the cultural course correction of those things allow me to be completely undefended before this movie. I don’t have to have my genre-savvy-female-filter turned on. Because the movie isn’t hurting me, I am free to see the phenomenal piece of work that it is.
I love the movie for the movie itself - for everything it is as a visual masterpiece; stripped of all distracting character inconsequentials to reveal the people themselves; a story so fundamental to accumulated millennia of human myth that it resonates for absolutely anyone - the journey, the struggle, and the return home with new wisdom.
This movie welcomes me with complete integrity, with George Miller’s delighted child-like smile, ecstatic to share the experience.
‘Come and play!’ it says; and I do.
“ the cultural course correction of those things allow me to be completely undefended before this movie. “
That’s it, that’s what it was, you nailed it. That’s why it’s so relaxing even though it’s so violent???
I’m so relieved to see other people go as batshit over this film as I have.
And about film literacy- I actually think most people are far more film literate than the industry expects them to be, or is trying to mould them to be. I think even people without film degrees know when they’re being fed the same old stale crap over and over again. I think they, too, appreciate when the film isn’t “hurting” them with lazy plot devices.
I have a degree like that and I’ve worked on films, so my perspective is different, but I’ve also been resigned to consuming and being unsatisfied with what was given to me?
Because I believe in blockbuster cinema being important. It’s the one that reaches the masses, the one people know. Arthouse films are great and all but only a handful of people see them, and their development (both individual and collective) gets bogged down by budget constraints and lack of exposure and the need to define themselves as alternative and so on and so on. Then on the other side you have blockbusters that cost millions but don’t use them to make anything significant?
Cinema is supposed to be an exchange of ideas. An accessible exchange of ideas, too. Where was all that? Why was there such a gap between my desire to see a huge movie on a huge screen, and my desire to see a good story told on film?
I love movies. I really do. I love big movies that sweep you away. So I kept watching films on the big screen, films that were called ‘great’ and which all turned out to only be marketed as such.
I finally gave up. Stopped going to the cinema. I was disillusioned.
And then this FUCKING MOVIE came along and made me so happy.
I didn’t expect it to! At first I didn’t even know why??? But it was a shock. I finally felt like someone cared about what they were making, and respected me enough as a viewer not to just give me the standard formula. I’d learned not to expect this at all from action films.
I felt like a kid again, watching a film where nothing was certain and everything was unknown and fascinating, and I think that makes sense because action-adventure films were a whole different story when I was younger. At first, each one was an innovation, the genre and all its myriad rivulets had to be discovered. Then at some point they became the standard popcorn genre, a trusted formula emerged, and they all started feeling much the same. Everything was epic. Everything felt mediocre.
And this fucking movie suddenly made me realise what I’d been missing. Respect. Respect for the art form, for its potential, and for the audience come to watch it.
All the more immense because you know this could have been an uninspired, ‘safe’ remake and still been profitable. Maybe this is naive but it really feels like this wasn’t made for the money in my pocket, but to actually be an amazing work of art, first of all? That it wasn’t about ‘what works’ but ‘what story do I want to tell’?
(^ the above is not a documented study, it’s just my general impression of how cinema has touched me through the years. Sorry bout that, we can’t all be pros. :P)
I actually think most people are far more film literate than the industry expects them to be, or is trying to mould them to be. I think even people without film degrees know when they’re being fed the same old stale crap over and over again. I think they, too, appreciate when the film isn’t “hurting” them with lazy plot devices.
Yes!! You’re expressing this much better than I. :D I feel like I can’t quite unpack this idea. It’s confounding the info just a bit that there are people who are:
1. educated in film formally;
2. educated in film via unhealthy obsession with it; and
3. people with primarily a strong instinct for story telling as their compass
- who all fall into the category of “people who get what this film accomplished, as part of what made them love it.”
And then there’s the ‘George Miller paid the audience the high compliment of respect’ part of the picture. I agree completely - people have a well honed instinct for when a movie is patronizing them. They know when a movie takes them seriously, has faith that they are astute and paying attention and appreciate subtle elements over 2x4 exposition. They know when they’re seeing something quality. No one needs to be steeped in the history of film or the academics of good story telling to GET that. No one needs to be told when they’re being given respect - that’s something anyone can perceive, whether or not they can name all the academic film theory talking points, or would care to. Nail right on the head, hurdy-gurdy!
Now I want a pithy term that doesn’t carry snobbish connotations :D What encompasses ‘film literate’ and/or ‘knows what respect looks like’ and/or 'great instincts for a well told story’ ??
“Particularly prone to serious procrastination problems are children who grew up with unusually high expectations placed on them…or else they exhibited exceptional talents early on, and thereafter “average” performances were met with concern and suspicion from parents and teachers.”
Holy SHIT
WELL THEN
Yep.
They actually tested me for a learning disability in high school because I was consistently failing math.
They discovered that I actually scored in the 80th percentile in that sort of learning.
Problem was, in every other subject, I was in the 99.8th percentile.
I had never learned how to study because I never needed to—and then, when something proved to be even the slightest bit challenging, my brain went
“LOL nope this is impossible abort”
Meanwhile, this entire time I’m scraping by in subjects like English. The assignments I did turn in, I’d score top marks—but I’d avoid turning in projects I didn’t think were “good” enough.
Essentially, my brain had two settings: “100%” or “0%”.
This sort of Baby Genius shit makes kids and adolescents neurotic and self-destructive.
We learned about this in Child Development. And we learned to reward hard work and not good job. Like don’t say to a child, “oh you are so smart.” Say “Oh did worked so hard.”
Be proud of the child, not the achievement.
I love when I see posts on tumblr that consist of people figuring out how to treat kids better in the future I honestly feel like tumblr users who have kids are/will be the best parents
so Charlotte Bronte read Emma by Jane Austen and was really interested in this minor character named Jane Fairfax who was poor and would have been a governess had she not married well and then Bronte wrote her own novel exploring the plight of the poor governess who married this guy named Edward Fairfax Rochester in a novel called Jane Eyre and my point is don’t let anyone tell you shit about fanfiction.
On TV and in film, we’re seeing a lot of properties get developed that we never thought would have a chance. In some cases, we’re seeing single properties stretched to into whole universes. Why do this when there are two worlds, by the same author, which are perfectly suited to this kind of adaptation?
otp in a fanfic:
*has really kinky, brutal, and obscene sex that would put the porn industry to shame*
me:
*nods* wow this is really nice and very well-written
otp in a fanfic:
*does the hug thing for the first time*
me:
*clutches chest* *breathes heavily* *buries face in blanket* *rolls around in delight* *kicks rapidly* *various squealing and whimpering noises* *huge grin* oh mY GOD
We - and by we, I mean, white feminists - need to talk about how Dylann Storm Roof, the Charleston terrorist, used white female purity to justify murdering black people.
“I have to do it,” he said. “You rape our women.”
This myth - that black men rape and assault white women - has been used to justify the murder of black people for centuries. It was used to justify lynchings. It was used to justify slavery. It is still used today.
And white feminists absolutely NEED TO REPUDIATE this myth, because white women’s tacit approval - and sometimes vocal agreement - with this myth is part of what allows this terrorism to happen.
People like Dylann Storm believe white women need to be protected from black men.
We don’t.
I stand in solidarity with the black community, not with people like Dylann Storm. He does not speak for me.
Many of our tumblr friends are Muslim and will be fasting for Ramadan, which starts Wednesday the 17th and ends July 17th (for most people, ask your followers if they have other dates, or please also let me know). It would be nice for the rest of us to tag our food so we don’t bum anyone out in the middle of their fast ok??? Please let others know so we can be respectful!
Reminder to tag your food and be thoughtful during Ramadan! Mubarak Ramadan to my Muslim followers ❌⭕️✌🏾️
swimming pools are so weird man we dig holes in the ground and fill them with liquid we cant breathe in and then spend an hour or so at a time trying not to drown in it
this is my most reblogged post this isn’t how I want to be remembered
I have a lot of thoughts about the Great Shoe Shuffle that happens in Fury Road. OK, first Slit pulls Max’s boot off by accident, so after the crash in the sandstorm, Max takes one of Nux’s shoes because he kinda figured Nux was kinda dead and didn’t need shoes anymore. And then later, in the swamp, Max goes off to kill the Bullet Farmer and comes back… with a boot for Nux.
But like, have you considered what that means?? Nux has been on their side for all of like ten minutes, as far as Max knows. But when he was raiding ammo and a steering wheel from the dead Bullet Farmer’s car, he would’ve had to actually pause and have the following thought process:
1) That is the same War Boy I took a boot from
2) I guess he’s on our side now
3) He is still possibly bootless
4) Since he is friend now I should give him a boot to replace the one I took
Max actually took a moment to consider Nux’s shoeless foot while he was killing the Bullet Farmer and raiding ammo from the enemies he had just blown up. DAD MAX, EVERYONE.
Ok but if we become best friends and you treat me right then there’s pretty much nothing you can do that I won’t be understanding over, like you could kill someone and I’d show up at your doorstep at 2 in the morning with a shovel and a can-do attitude
I’m sick of seeing apparently ‘LGBT inclusive’ posts that completely disregard my sexuality. I want to know who out there believes that I and others like me exist and have a valid sexuality.
HOLY SHIT A DEMI POST *cries* I am loved by 14,692 people that many people don’t think demi is fake The world is beautiful
There has to be a long German word for this feeling: “Look, I don’t disagree with you on any major points of fact or opinion, but you’re being such a smug pretentious bastard about it that I want to shove your face in regardless”
Waltersobchakeit. “You’re not wrong, you’re just an asshole.”
my biggest concern in life is actually how my online friends can be informed of my death
This is one of those things that if filed in the ‘wasn’t aware of this until a text post.’ now I am genuinely worried…. Am I going to have to put that shit into my will??? Like??????
‘someone needs to log onto all of my important online accounts (see: blogs, tumblr, instagram, NOT FACEBOOK) to update the best people of my world that I have indeed died and their attendance is required in a few days time for the biggest party in existence. (P.S. No one will get their goddamn inheritance unless this happens and I will smite you from the heavens.)’
Four Swedish police officers’ New York vacation was interrupted when a fight broke out on the subway. The train operator called for support, and — being cops and all — they dutifully stepped in to help until local authorities arrived.
The visiting cops had to subdue the two men involved in the fight, which no doubt takes skill to do safely. But it’s how they did their job after they gained control that really impressed people.
- His eyes were really pasted over with make up
- Thus, he didn’t see anything, often for hours
- Being bling, he had to be guided around the set several times
- He was up on the stage even during the high speed chases, no fakes
- The guitar does indeed shoot flames, it’s not CGI
- Its base was made from two bedpans and weighs 60 kg
- Which is why it was hold by strings; it was impossible to carry
- Sean mostly played Led Zeppelin and ACDC in the morning
- When he got tired later on, he just shredded, which everybody on set loved
- He tried to make the Doof Warrior like “Keith Richards, with double the drugs, lost for six months in the desert”
hearing uma thurman for the 1st time:
yes okay nice song cool
hearing uma thurman now:
[hears song on the computer] [crashes through the ceiling] i cAN MOVE MOUNTAINS I CAN WORK A MIRACLE, WORK A MIRACLE OH OH OH [flails arms]
If they are changing the colors of the letter, that means they are probably going to change the colors of everything else to that color scheme. Imagine.
buddy cop romcom starring chris evans and tom hardy finding an abandoned puppy at a crime scene and they fight over who has to take care of it only they both end up falling in love with it and then they fight over who gets to keep it until it almost ruins their friendship
and then they realize they’re in love with one another and they all live happily ever after
When people assume Celtic = Irish I get a strong urge to stab myself in the eye.
No no no no no no.
Sit down we must have a conversation.
There were 6 Celtic nations.
Éire, Cymru, Alba, Kernow, Breizh, and Ellan Vannin.
Ireland, Wales, Scotland, Cornwall, Brittany, and the Isle of Mann respectively.
They’re all related, but not the same. They all have different languages descended from a similar group, Irish (Gaeilge), Scottish (Gàidhlig), Manx (Gaelg), Welsh (Cymraeg), Cornish (Kernowek), and Breton (Brezhoneg). Some are more widely spoken than others, for example Welsh is still commonly spoken in Wales, whereas hearing Cornish in Cornwall instead of English is rare.
All Celtic nations have varied mythology and culture.
Irish Mythology is different from Breton Mythology, and even Welsh and Cornish mythology (arguably the most related Celtic Nations) have subtle differences to each other. I wish I could add more about the cultures at this time but my knowledge of Celtic nations is primarily made up of the history and languages of those regions, particularly Cornwall.
You might have notice that England and English are missing from this, because the English descended from Anglo-Saxons, who were German invaders that came to the isles right around the Fall of the Roman empire in the 5th Century, erasing the Celtic influence in what is now England.
So what this all really means is that Celtic is an umbrella term, and just because it’s Celtic doesn’t mean it has anything to do with Ireland at all. So don’t assume that just because someone’s talking about something Celtic that they’re talking about something Irish.
I actually didn’t know this. Thank you, tumblr person
The north or Spain have celtic roots too. They can’t be included among the Celtic Nations because they don’t keep a true celtic language. But they are obviously celtic in their traditions, folklore and music.
The “Celts”, as this assortment of different tribes was called by the Romans, were about as homogeneous as native American tribes were when European invaded North America. Their territories spread from France through middle and Southern Germany in the North and Spain in the South all the way to Galatia, as mentioned in the Galatians letter by the Apostle Paul. That’s in Western Asia, namely the Anatolia regions in today’s Turkey. Galatasaray Istanbul even still carries it in its name.
Alright, then came the Romans and kinda invaded their lands and forced their culture on them, but hey….
But yeah, 50BC Celts where everywhere . . . Except the British Isles or Ireland.
Q Daily, a third grader who attends a Brooklyn public school, describes himself as silly, curious and nice — all of the qualities that he likes about people. He is a lover of Michael Jackson, a wearer of trendy hats and isn’t shy about dancing in front of a crowd.
And, now that he identifies as a boy, he feels more alive than before.
“It feels like, instead of a dead flower, a growing flower,” he said of his transition from girl to boy.
i was 14 and i was walking through a mall by myself at 12am after my shift at coldstone creamery lol and a bunch of men started whistling and meowing and getting really close to me and they kept asking me questions and i kept not answering until i didn’t know what else to do so i said “i’m only 14” and almost in unison they said “we don’t care” i was so fucking scared i didn’t know what to do and they kept talking about how i looked and how my body looked and what they would do i was on the verge of tears i was all alone in a huge mall i knew i couldn’t outrun them all i felt totally hopeless until a maintenance worker came up to all of us with a huge industrial broom in her hand, i thought she was going to yell at all of us for being in the mall after hours bc she probably thought we were all friends but instead she cursed all of them out in spanish, threatened to press a panic button on her belt and then proceeded to walk me to the basement garage and waited with me until my mom got there to pick me up she had a death grip on her cart the whole time and a face of steel she looked so strong and i just kept saying thank you and she kept saying not to thank her because she had to stop them.
that was the moment i realized women were the most important beings on this planet and we have to protect each other bc nobody else is going to, she didn’t even know me, we couldn’t even communicate that well because of the language barrier, she could have lost her job for waiting with me in the parking lot but she looked out for me when she didn’t have to, she had nothing to gain from it, i’m 21 now and i tell everyone this story even though it happened 7 years ago, what she did that night helped me form and shape lot of my beliefs early on.
i was at a grocery store really late one night and some old guy kind of eyed me as i walked out of the store next to this other lady. She and I made eye contact and i knew she was scared too. we loaded up our groceries into our cars as fast as possible and I had way more bags than her so she got done faster than me. I panicked because i was sure she was going to leave so i just hurried faster, shaking a little, and then i noticed she sat in her car, watching me and making sure nobody came near. She waited not until all my groceries were loaded, or until my cart was put away, or until I got into my car. No, she didn’t drive away until I drove away.
And that was the moment that I realized how much women need other women. That we can’t win this war without each other and we have to be looking out for each other, every second.
my last year in new york city, i got off the subway around 9 or 10p.m. i only lived about 5 blocks from the f train, but i hadn’t gotten more than two before a woman’s hand suddenly touched my arm.
“that guy behind us is following you,” she said. “he was watching you leave the train car and followed you up.”
i hadn’t noticed him, or at least not noticed him following me. when we stopped outside a grocery store, he stopped half a block back and loitered. the woman linked her arm with mine and walked me several blocks out of her way to my front door and made sure i got inside safely.
another time, nocigar and i were walking home and at a stoplight a stranger grabbed my arm when i wouldn’t respond to him and tried to physically drag me over to him. she–who is, by the way, not a very physically imposing girl–ripped his hand off my arm and snarled, “don’t fucking touch her.”
protect your friends. protect strangers. there are good men in the world, but don’t wait for them to do something if you can do it yourself.
remember: if you’re attending a school that gives you a .edu email address, you can upgrade your amazon.com account to prime for free by going on and choosing the college/student membership. that means you get the prime 2-day shipping and even some textbook discounts (not to mention AFAIK you enjoy the amazon instant access for free for the duration of your edu email being active)
well at least someone is looking out for students
also counts if you’re in the uk and have an .ac.uk address
French Friend: well, the total cost of me going to Med school is about 406 a year -
American Friend: THOUSAND?
French Friend: Um, no. 406 Euro. It sounds a little high but it covers the cost of my textbooks, extra classes and most of my housing. How much is it for you?
I respect joss whedon’s right to write the equivalent of a 250,000 word 89/? chapter fic posted on ff.net with the description “EVERYONE IS OOC…DONT LIKE DONT READ!!!! I UPDATE FOR EVERY 50 REVIEWS!!! NO FLAMES OR I DELETE” but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it as canon lol
Hello internet civilians! As some of you may or may not know, my name is Dana and I am a high school senior that is ALWAYS on the prowl for trying to get to college for as cheap as possible. I’ve come across 1000′s of scholarships that I simply don’t qualify for, so I thought “hey, why not share these with random people on the internet that don’t know where to start?” You asked the question and only answers you shall receive.
Please remember to credit me for this masterpost because I spent a lot of time and energy on it :)
PLEASE ALSO REMEMBER THAT A SCHOLARSHIP IS WORTHLESS IF YOU DO NOT APPLY FOR IT.
SO DO NOT JUST SAVE THIS POST IN YOUR DRAFTS AND NEVER USE IT. ACTUALLY WRITE AN ESSAY OR FOUR
Have you talked about the time you almost died because that sounds like a very good story (to hear; I'm sure it was terrifying to live through!)
Okay I’ve racked up like a dozen more theatre story requests (from fictionfangirllove, gandalfsgaybeard, to name a few)
and now seems like the time. I actually have multiple ‘once upon a time I almost died’ stories and I can’t remember which one this is referring to so we’re going to pull one out of the memory hat at random, ya dig?
Once upon a time I was in this show called She Stoops to Conquer, but because I was also in a production of Much Adoand splitting time between rehearsals, I only played David Garrick for the prologue (and once a drunk servant when another actor didn’t show up). Anywhoo, I was dressed in the height of eighteenth century fucking fashion in like breeches and frock coat etc. etc. with all my girly hair piled up inside this stupid fucking hat because I’m supposed to be a dude. So the director has this totally-clever, this-has-never-been-done-before idea to stick me in the audience as soon as the house opens, so as people like file in an sit down there’s this time-travelling cross-dressed motherfucker just sobbing in the front row for no obvious reason.
When the house lights go down and the stage lights come up, I turn around like I’ve just fucking noticed the 300 or so people sitting behind me and the fact that there’s a fucking follow-spot pointed right at my fucking face and I’m like “Oh, ha ha, I totally didn’t see you there, let me tell you why I’m sobbing like thirteen-year-old girl who just got dumped.” (I fucking hate this gimmick.) So anyway as the monologue goes on I get up and start running around the auditorium, messing with audience members, like you do, because watching an actor sit on their ass and just talk at you is boring as shit.
Because I was one of the more seasoned actors in the department (this was high school, bear in mind, and I’d already been working on and offstage for about ten years) the director basically gave me free rein to do whatever I wanted, so towards the end of the speech I had a bit where I jumped up onto the arms of some poor sod’s chair–like, a foot on each arm, right?–and it’s hilarious because they’re really surprised and their face is kind of exactly level with my crotch and everyone’s laughing, hardy har har, jokes about genitals never get old. So closing night of show I jump up on this lady’s chair without realizing that she’s thrown her jacket over one arm, and it’s one of those freakin’ slippery windbreaker things. Now, just to make matters worse, I’m wearing like these ridiculous fucking buckled shoes that have literally zero traction, and I’m staring into this blinding spotlight and it’s like looking straight into a goddamn solar flare or some shit. But I’m perched up there and gesticulating wildly, and I shit you not as soon as I get to the line, “Let not your virtue trip; who trips may stumble, / And virtue be not virtue if she tumble,” this lady I’m basically fucking standing on tries to pull her damned plastic jacket across her lap BECAUSE THAT COULDN’T POSSIBLY HAVE WAITED A MOTHERFUCKING MOMENT LONGER and yanks it out from under me.
I go windmilling backward and land flat on my back on the concrete floor so hard I’m pretty sure I saw entire fucking galaxies, nevermind plain fucking stars. But the problem is I’ve landed right in the aisle and because most theatre seats are stadium seats, it’s on like a 30-degree incline, so I go rolling backward, ass over elbow, like a runaway armadillo. And when I flip right side up again, WHAM. I slam into the front of the stage so fucking hard my fucking hat flies off, goes spinning over my head and disappears. And for a minute I’m just sitting there, kind of dazed, legs splayed out in front of me, stockings falling down, wind totally knocked out of me, and all these bitches in the audience are just laughing their asses off because they think it was intentional. So I kind of cough a bit and pull myself to my feet and limp around, wheezing the rest of my lines. And I’m fumbling around, trying to find my damn hat, but here’s the thing–when you’re already about to pass out and you’ve had a spotlight like the wrath of Apollo pointed straight at your face for like half an hour, it is really fucking hard to see a black fucking hat in the fucking dark.
Eventually I have to give up because I’m all out of lines, so I do the most pathetic bow of all time and kind of hobble offstage, totally hatless. And then all the lights come up on this absolutely pristine drawing room set and BAM. Smack in the middle of the stage is the stupid-ass hat, because apparently that was where it fucking landed. And I’m just looking on, like, Ohhhhhh you have got to be shitting me as the family all comes on for the first scene. And the guy playing Mr. Hardcastle like swans the fuck in and then just stops dead, staring down at this thing on the ground like, “What the fuck is this grimy-ass hat doing in the middle of my living room,” and the audience is still fucking dying because they’ve finally caught on to the fact that OH WAIT THEY DIDN’T PLAN THIS NUTFUCKERY. And for the rest of the scene Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle just go gliding around their parlor, ignoring the hat and just walking in big circles around it like it’s not fucking there which you can’t fucking do in the fucking theatre, because the audience can fucking SEE IT, and I’m dying a thousand deaths in the wings until finally my friend Chris barges onstage as Tony Lumpkin and just fucking boots the fucking hat straight into the wings, turns around and yells, “I’M IN HASTE, MOTHER, DAMN IT.” And the crowd goes wild.
And that is the story of the time I was not an acrobat and almost died and my runaway hat ruined the opening scene.
