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A few more words about last night's free preview screening of Tron: Legacy at the AMC 42nd Street in Times Square.



I've been to a couple of preview screenings of this sort before, notably for Hairspray. I get the idea that they attract a large number of devoted fans. They may also include members of the press and other notables. Sometimes they include comment cards, sometimes not.



The point is, people line up. If it's a nice day, this isn't a big deal. If it's not a nice day, well, you're a fan. When you're a fan of a movie and you line up, you really love that movie. You're probably going to spend your money to see it when it's officially released. Going to the movies is one of our cherished cultural experiences. It makes sense to invite friends to join you. One of the great joys of fandom is shared experience - discussing your expectations for the movie beforehand, comparing notes afterwards.



Somestimes one member of the party is able to arrive first and get in line to ensure the group gets good seats. This is cool with me. Saving a space in line for one or two friends is perfectly reasonable. If you've been waiting in the freezing cold for 3 hours to see a movie, and, like my brother, are at the front of the line because you are a devoted fan of Tron and are eager to get the best schwag that's given out at these screenings, I applaud your fannish devotion and wish I had the physical constitution/working hours amenable to joining you.



As it was, I joined Andrew in line and found myself 4th. There were 3 more devoted people ahead of Andrew, and many more behind him. They were all very cold. It was 20 degrees Farenheit last night, with a windchill of 7 degrees. These people were devoted fans. I, myself, am a more casual, but still ardent fan of the film.



But did you know that there are some people who go to any free preview screening they can find? They scour the ads and the online listings and I'm sure there's some sort of message board or online group or e-mail list that tells them exactly where all the free previews are. They know eachother because they all show up to all the free movies. They don't necessarily talk to eachother, but they know eachother and "save a spot" for eachother. And there are a lot of them.



And these people don't care about Tron at all. If you're at a screening for a different film, they don't care about that film either. They just want to see a free movie and get free stuff, and probably sell it on e-Bay afterwards.



These are the people that materialized out of nowhere last night about half an hour before they started letting people in. Suddenly, instead of three people ahead of us, there were two dozen. They had been waiting inside the theatre, in the warm, or coming from somewhere else. They all seemed to "belong" to a man name Anton. Anton was in his late 40s or early 50s, and he was shrill and annoying. He basically ignored everyone who congregated around him until the crowd behind him started complaining. Then he got loud and started ranting.



Andrew and I addressed two women who appeared to just cut us in line. "Excuse me, who are you with?" I asked them. "Because my brother has been waiting here for 3 hours and there are a lot of really cold people behind you."



"Yeah," someone behind me chimed in, "Get to the back of the line!"



They tried to ignore me, but I persisted in asking them who they were with. "Him," they said, vaguely pointing.



"Who?" I pressed. "Who's your friend?"



"Anton!" one of the women called, "Tell this person we're with you!"



Anton acknowledged them but then ignored us when we asked about the other 20 "friends" that were around him. The people behind us chimed in with complaints. They had been waiting a long time. They had been at the front of the line, and now they were not.



At this point, Anton started raving LOUDLY. "I have these 6 people. I can't speak for any of the others."



One of the women, a middle-aged woman with a pastel headband, asked Andrew and I if this was our "first screening".



"Um, no, we've been to plenty of screenings, but at those, everyone waited in line like civilzed people."



"Oh," she said dismissively, "it seems like this is your first screening."



A serial screener. She didn't care about the movie, she just wanted to be up front. To her and the other two dozen people with her, we were all just pathetic neophytes who didn't understand the Law of the Screening, which is that Anton and his 24 "screening regulars" don't have to wait at the back of the line. They are special. We are nothing.



Several people went in to complain to management, Andrew included. They were all told that "it doesn't matter because we're letting you in in 5 minutes". We were told this for about an hour and a half before anyone started letting people in. There was serious frostbite danger going on at this point.



Finally, close to 7:30, a man in a black trenchcoat and a Tron baseball cap came out, introduced himself as "security", and started threatening everyone in the line that if he saw a single cell phone he'd "frisk them himself" and "throw you all out" and "confiscate your cell phones". It was very hostile. There was no, "Hi, thanks for coming to the screening." There was no, "Sorry you've been waiting in the cold for three hours." It was like being at the airport. I was truly taken aback at the level of hostility directed toward us.



Of course, we were mere fans. We could be expected to smuggle in recording devices. Therefore, we could expect to be treated like dirt.



I've never smuggled a recording device into a theatre in my life, but I do carry a cell phone, and I wasn't about to have it confiscated. Luckily, I have big boobs and an underwire bra, so in went my cell phone. They waved a metal detector over me as I went into the theatre, and it didn't go off. Big boobs confound Disney Metal Detector. Triumph of the Hacker!



Anyway, I was really shocked at the way the fans were treated at this screening. Yes, we were given shwag, if we made a point to ask for it - it wasn't offered - and yes, we were given blue wristbands that entitled us to a free popcorn and soda (dinner!). That was the extent of the courtesy we were shown.



When we entered the theatre, after most people had to turn over their cell phones, be patted down and have a metal wand waved around their person, we were greeted by an usher who told us to "sit anywhere but the roped-off area". The roped-off area was the entire "orchestra" section of the theatre. So we were just allowed the balcony. Nice.



The event was run by Phillips-Norelco, by the way, because they were promoting some fancy new razor. They're the ones who left us out in the cold. Disney provided hostile security guards, and Phillips-Norelco provided indifferent event organizers who didn't care if someone gets frostbite.



The movie was fun. As I said in an earlier post, I lost the hat that I had hand-knitted for myself in baby alpaca to match my scarf. It was special to me, so I went back into the theatre to find it. It was gone. I checked all around the seat. I checked in with the kids at Lost and Found, teenagers working the late shift who had no pen and gave me their own "found" log to write down my contact info. I knew I'd never hear from them again.



AMC 42nd Street is a confusing theatre. I've gotten lost there before - they don't make it easy to move from floor to floor via escalator. So somehow, Andrew and I found ourselves exiting through what appeared to be a party after the movie. We were handed glasses of champagne and nibbled chocolate lollipops. A woman in a green wrist band chatted with Andrew about the poor management of the event - the confusion, the fact that no one seemed to know where to go. We agreed.



"And who are you with?" the woman asked.



"Uh, we just saw the movie," Andrew replied.



The woman's face hardened. "Oh," she said. "This is the press party."



"Uh-huh," we replied, sipping our champagne.



"Well," she added, "enjoy yourselves, while you can." She fixed us each with a pointed, icy stare before turning away.



Andrew and I smothered giggles as we gulped down our champagne and headed for yet another Escher-esque escalator.









