So on Saturday night, after Mike and I had been out shooting photos all day, we wind up as usual at a diner and a movie with the rest of our Pop5 crew (only its Pop4 with Rama in LA). Standing in the foyer of the Ritz, we tried to find a movie to see, but the problem was that there is nothing much out that any of us wanted to see. We are in that post-Oscar nominee, pre-summer blockbuster extravaganza lull. We are wavering between "The Devil and Daniel Johnston," and "Hard Candy," since both Buddy and Rob have already seen "Inside Man." After a sidetrack to consider "Betty Page," we end up somehow with "Hard Candy," and I'm warning you right now to never, never make this decision if you end up in the same situation.

Now, I was not really expecting this be a good movie. But it managed to be horribly beyond my low expectations. The very first scene put my teeth on edge, and there wasn't even any acting - it was a conversation via IM transcription. But the dialogue...ugh! And worse, I think, is that it was clearly trying to be an "art film." Mike leaned over and asked me what was wrong, and I said, "I'm just not liking this too much so far." Although the subject matter was kind of icky, it wasn't even that that got to me. Just the horrible dialogue, and the terrible story line. The script sounded like it had been written by a 16 year old boy. A demented, retarded 16 year old boy.

So after 20 minutes more of ludicrous, stomach-turning dialogue, I turned to Mike and said, "Can we leave? I'm gonna go wait in the car." Because the idea of waiting by myself in my car was the more pleasant alternative to sitting in that theater another minute. I got up and left, and was kind of surprised that the guys all followed me. We had a quick reconnaissance outside of the theater. Mike was only disappointed that he was breaking his streak of never having walked out of a movie (although later he remembered doing it on a date years ago). Rob said the movie made him feel dirty and he needed a shower. Buddy wanted to know how it ended, and I said that's what Spoiler.com was for. There was universal diappointment that we had paid $9 for it, and I was determined to get that money back.

I knocked on the manager's door, and this young kid came out. I told him that a wanted a refund, and I think I said it was because the movie was "a fucking piece of shit," but now I feel a little guilty about swearing at him. At the time, I was hugely irritated and angry, but still. The manager kid offered us free passes to replace our tickets, which we accepted, since we go to the Ritz all the time. We went back to Buddy's, where he looked up the ending on Spoiler.com, and I was even more disgusted with the lame and ridiculous plot. The moral of the story: do not under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES see this movie!