rachelmanija (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rachelmanija) wrote2005-10-19 08:38 am
rachelmanija) wrote2005-10-19 08:38 am
Entry tags:
Booty Call
Yet another comment that I wrote in someone else's journal (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rushthatspeaks's) which I'm reprinting here so I can have all my stories in one place:
My father and I once decided to attend a film festival in our hometown of Santa Barbara. Since we both loved film noir and gangster movies and we'd seen Reservoir Dogs three times, it was an easy decision to choose one described as "Small-time crooks turn on each other after a drug deal goes wrong."
The movies were screened in theatres that still had the marquee up for whatever was normally playing, and Dad and I both averted our eyes in embarassment from the regular headliner, Booty Call.
The drug deal film was one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Not only did the plot make no sense-- at the end, when everyone's true identities had been revealed, careful consideration revealed that the chief drug dealer's big deal, around which the entire plot had revolved, had been to sell a hundred grand worth of heroin to himself-- but about halfway through the movie, when all the characters had been holed up in a cabin in the middle of the desert waiting interminably for the drugs to arrive, one of them suddenly said, "Hey, let's get some hookers!"
They picked up the phone and ordered in several hookers. And then, as I sat beside my father, both of us slowly sinking lower and lower into our seats, the hookers and the drug dealers proceeded to enact an incredibly graphic orgy complete with full frontal nudity. It lasted about twenty minutes, which in film time feels like about an hour and if you're sitting next to your father, feels like a weekend vacation in Hell. At times they orgied in slow motion. Just when it looked like it was all over, a third hooker arrived ("It's our friend Kristy! Hi, Kristy!), did a strip-tease, and joined the action. Then the hookers got dressed, the drug dealers paid them and said, "Thanks and good-bye!" and the plot proceeded along its deeply stupid course. Needless to say, there turned out to be no plot-related reason for the 20-minute orgy scene.
When the lights finally, blessedly came up and Dad and I slunk out of the theatre, he stopped below the marquee. "Look at that," he said. "I guess we went into the wrong theatre, because I'm pretty sure we just saw Booty Call."
rushthatspeaks's) which I'm reprinting here so I can have all my stories in one place:My father and I once decided to attend a film festival in our hometown of Santa Barbara. Since we both loved film noir and gangster movies and we'd seen Reservoir Dogs three times, it was an easy decision to choose one described as "Small-time crooks turn on each other after a drug deal goes wrong."
The movies were screened in theatres that still had the marquee up for whatever was normally playing, and Dad and I both averted our eyes in embarassment from the regular headliner, Booty Call.
The drug deal film was one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Not only did the plot make no sense-- at the end, when everyone's true identities had been revealed, careful consideration revealed that the chief drug dealer's big deal, around which the entire plot had revolved, had been to sell a hundred grand worth of heroin to himself-- but about halfway through the movie, when all the characters had been holed up in a cabin in the middle of the desert waiting interminably for the drugs to arrive, one of them suddenly said, "Hey, let's get some hookers!"
They picked up the phone and ordered in several hookers. And then, as I sat beside my father, both of us slowly sinking lower and lower into our seats, the hookers and the drug dealers proceeded to enact an incredibly graphic orgy complete with full frontal nudity. It lasted about twenty minutes, which in film time feels like about an hour and if you're sitting next to your father, feels like a weekend vacation in Hell. At times they orgied in slow motion. Just when it looked like it was all over, a third hooker arrived ("It's our friend Kristy! Hi, Kristy!), did a strip-tease, and joined the action. Then the hookers got dressed, the drug dealers paid them and said, "Thanks and good-bye!" and the plot proceeded along its deeply stupid course. Needless to say, there turned out to be no plot-related reason for the 20-minute orgy scene.
When the lights finally, blessedly came up and Dad and I slunk out of the theatre, he stopped below the marquee. "Look at that," he said. "I guess we went into the wrong theatre, because I'm pretty sure we just saw Booty Call."