No Country for Cunty Bus Drivers

At the eleventh hour I decided not to go and see Aliens Vs. Predator: Requiem.

I think when you're actively dreading going to see a film, it might be a sign that you're not going to have an entirely fulfilling cinema-going experience.

I decided to go and see No Country for Old Men instead, for which I had to travel to a cinema in the next town over, because my local fleapit had seemingly decided that it needed at least 800 of its many screens to show various versions of Aliens, including one 'VIP' screening. I don't quite know what that would entail - presumably they stab your eyes out before the film starts or something.

This is actually a slightly different post than the one I originally intended to write. After changing my mind about which film I was going to see, I thought I'd be describing how, despite the extra travel and expense involved - and the near-Arctic conditions I'd had to battle - I'd made such a brilliant last-minute choice - but I'm not entirely sure I did.

You see, I didn't think No Country was a bad film by any means, but there's something about those critically-lauded, slightly more 'meaningful' films that gets rather lost on me.

I probably should have learnt my lesson after I saw Syriana (another film I had to go on a pilgrimage to see - my local cinema clearly has my fellow city folk down as a bunch of drooling plebs, which, to be absolutely fair, is more or less spot on). Having heard nothing but good things about Clooney's anti-somethingorother polemic, I sat down and watched it, and was emphatically none the wiser two hours later. Again, it certainly wasn't bad, but I sort of wish there'd been more Kung Fu. Or something.

And why do people seem to think that having an ambiguous ending makes a film more dramatic or important? What's wrong with tying up loose ends and having some kind of satisfying payoff after investing two hours of your life watching something?

Anyway, the point is there are certain films that benefit from being seen on a massive screen with near-deafening surround sound (but must it be so loud, father?), and other films which I could happily wait to appear on TV. And then not bother to watch.

So I think I may go and see AvP:R (as the 'kids' are very much not calling it) at some point, because I've heard it said it's broadly the same quality as the first, which means - faint praise aside - if my love for the Alien was enough to sustain me through the first one, I should be able to manage another 90 minutes.

Interestingly, my slightly dissatisfied mood may have been crystalised by an encounter I had on the way home. Upon boarding the bus from the Hicksville town where the cinema was back to the, uh, slightly larger Hicksville city where I live, I was greeted by a large sigh and no small amount of chastisement from the good driver.

Apparently, his 'beef' was that I'd got on the bus before everyone had got off. In truth, I hadn't actually realized anyone was getting off when I stepped on board, as the (2) people alighting had clearly left it until the last minute to get up out of their seats. Nevertheless, this did not seem to cause any undue problem, but I received a curt telling off anyway.

I shouldn't whinge really, I mean, it's not as if I'm a paying customer or even A COMPLETE RUDDY STRANGER or anything.