The Hitchhikers Guide to the Movies… or… Bring a Towel
by F.G. Hablawi
[Warning: I wrote most of this while dodging security at the theater, and also really late at night - there shouldn't be any spoilers, but the grammar, formatting, and rationale might be right out the window]
I woke up Friday morning, ready for what would be one of the most spiritual days of my life. It was April 29, 2005, and the Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe Movie was to premiere. I was going to see it on the first day.
Chapter 1
I woke up, got showered and dressed, and checked showtimes. I even saved the web page that I got the showtimes from. I had twenty minutes before the first show, so I packed my bag with all the things I needed: peanuts (or at least a peanut butter granola bar) hard drinks (diet vanilla coke for me) and of course, my towel. Yes, I brought a towel. Don't be stupid.
I also brought along my old handheld pc, with the words "DON'T PANIC" scribbled on the front. I've had that sucker for years and years, and it barely works now - but it held together long enough for me to have written most of this article on it.
I was out the door is seconds. The ride over to the Loews Theater was sooo smooth. The radio was tuned to 101.1 FM, the local oldies station - just the type of music I used to listen to back when Hitchhikers first entered my life. Lots of things about today have brought back memories of yesteryear. The songs playing on the way out of the house were great, and I was already in a good mood. Many of you who know me know that I hate to drive, but I didn't mind at all today.
Chapter 2
The ride over was smooth, but even it paled in comparison to the character that handed me my $6.25 matinee priced ticket to Hitchhikers, a character named Leo.
He knew. He was hip. He rocks.
I realize I've got about a half hour to spare, since the showtimes moved about for some reason. I ask Leo if I can pop out and back for a bit, since I realize that I don't have nearly enough salt to make it through this film alive, and I don't want to shell out three and a half dollars for Goobers or Peanut M&Ms. He nods. I nod back. I waltz out.
Chapter 3
I left the movie theater to get emergency rations, as the peanut butter bar may not have been enough to sustain me through the warp. I got Peanut M&Ms, a PayDay, and a liter of Diet Coke with Lime (from the dollar store in the mall next to the Borders) to go along with the stuff I already had, just to play it safe. I make it back to the theater with plenty of time to spare.
Chapter 4
The trailers lasted forever, building suspense. Some were good, like the Episode 3 trailer, but I can barely remember them now. My camera was at the ready, determined to document each and every aspect of this spiritual journey. I love this book... show... movie - whatever! I've been waiting for this for years, and just like the book, it has come into my life at a very crucial stage. I am as lonely and lost as I was in junior high when I didn't have a real friend or personality to speak of. Now, as before, I felt inspired, obsessed and invigorated by this strange and fabulous story - a story that begins when the Earth ends, that only just starts when things look like they are at their worst.
Chapter 5
I wanted to talk about the movie itself - to describe the amazing visuals, the cameos, the different twists of plot that makes this incarnation of the Guide different then all the others - as right it should be - but I won't. There were changes, yes. There were inexplicable musical numbers, sure. There was a love story that seemed so trite and base and simplistic, yet beyond all comprehension still overjoyed the young Frank inside me that always wanted to see Trillian and Arthur… well… the hero is supposed to get the girl, right? I want to talk about Ford reclaiming his coolness, of the excellent use of Towels, of the awkward yet acceptable lack of English accents, of old robots on line at Vogon headquarters, of now classic guitar rifts, of staying to the end of the credits, of getting a call from Rick right in the middle of the movie, or of Ford's leather sidebag and my subconscious desire for one… all these things and more are totally worth pouring hours over, it's true, but let this first (and feverishly written) essay just stand as testament to the geek inside all of us that waited eagerly for this day to come for years.
It feels like a brand new start. A new beginning. Another chance to do this right. And as for the old world, the dull grey void of confusion, self-doubt, and depression… well, So Long and Thanks for All the Fish….
[PS. I plan on posting a followup here, with more links to the pics I took of this wonderful day.]
For those of you who can't wait...
