Once inside the lobby, our group ran to the big theatre and found the perfect seats up towards the top. Kids dispersed to sit as far away from parents as possible; while moms settled in with their blankets and extra large Diet Cokes.
At 12:05 a.m. the Mocking Jay logo appared on the screen and the crowd went wild. That's the best part of going to a midnight premiere -- the energy of the audience. I cheered too, which in hindsight disturbs me quite a bit. When did a lover of historical fiction suddenly become interested in stories about children murdering children?
It wasn't long after the movie began that I sensed trouble. The camera, slightly blurred and shaky, followed Katniss Everdeen running through the forest, panning around the scene so fast my eyes couldn't focus on a single thing. I thought it would last for a few minutes to set the tone of what was happening in District 12, but it went on and on as my stomach churned and my forehead began sweating.
It was reminiscent of watching old home movies at my uncle's house back in the 70's -- reel after reel of blurred scenery, from every single vacation the man had ever taken, flickering on a homemade screen set up in the shag covered basement. I can sum up the experience in one word -- Miserable.
As Katniss and Peeta, (who looked like he dressed for 6th grade class picture day), boarded a train that resembled the traveling offices of James West and Artemus Gordon, I gave up watching, and closed my eyes. It was so disappointing. For one thing, who wants to see cute Josh Hutcherson looking like a wimp? And even more important, who wants to pay $12.00 to sit through a movie with their eyes closed? Not me, that's who.
I took a peek every now and then, hoping that the motion had stopped, and I could finally focus in on a face that wasn't 1/2 inch away from the camera. Big mistake.
I made it as far as the genetically engineered hornet's nest, when I couldn't take it any more. I abandoned my candy and blanket and made a mad dash for the exit, stepping on toes, and pop corn in the dark.
I spent the remainder of the evening with my arms hugging a ceramic bowl. I won't tell you the rest, I don't want to spoil your next meal. But I will tell you, that having a barf-fest in a public bathroom is horrible; second only to getting sick at gas station, or porta-potty.
And that my friends, is my review of Hunger Games.
Worst movie experience ever.
It was much better in my head.
If you suffer from any kind of motion sickness at all,
wait for the movie to come out on Net Flicks.
And while you are waiting,
pray that The Girl on Fire gets a new director,
one that's over 40, and suffers from kinetosis.