Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Spirit Trap

Warning: contains spoilers for a very dull film

Who brings an umbrella to the cinema? I mean, to put up during the performance?

Well whoever it was, we met her last night. A group of us had gone out to see the new Billie Piper film (words I never thought I would ever write) and she was sitting two rows in front of us, squirming like a dog with worms and muttering and hissing to herself throughout the trailers. Clearly mad as a box of hair, but we didn't mind. There were only eight other people in the whole cinema, a damning indicative of how good the film was going to be. In all fairness we'd just popped along to see whether Billie was still acting using her jumper cuffs as she did in Doctor Who.

"Ooh, I like the titles," said Gertie sitting next to me. He'd helpfully brought some vodka in case it was going to be too scary for him. He doesn't do horror, which is odd considering some of the monsters he's taken home from the disco. Umbrella Woman also clearly approved as she had taken her brolly down and was waving it like a lightsaber.

Meanwhile Billie Piper arrived at Spooky Mansion, Evil Death House Road, North London, clearly oblivious to the swathe of blood on the porch where a tramp had been killed in the pre-title sequence.
"She's getting all this for £23 a week?" he asked. "It's huge!"
"Antique furniture too. I'd have hocked that by the end of the third week to pay for all the Strongbow I could drink."
Of course the house has a Locked Room Containing Untold Secrets, and a Spooky Clock that's racing towards midnight. Even Umbrella Woman has started hissing like a troglodyte, unable to take the appalling dialogue. And the final straw was when the Vaguely Pretty Drug Dealer moved in with his Waif Girlfriend. His movements were permanently set to 'swagger'.
"I hope he's the first to die," I muttered.
Umbrella Woman threw her bottle at the screen, yelled "This is fucking rubbish!" grabbed her carrier bags full of clothes and stormed out. There was quiet for a moment.
"I think that was former companion Elisabeth Sladen," said someone in our row.

Meanwhile, there was much muttering about how... husky Billie was in widescreen. This is obviously before she lost all the weight for Doctor Who. We happily pointed to the Spooky Door that was banging backwards and forwards like Jude Law at a nanny convention.
"I bet that's the way to the cake shop," someone said. "Billie's just crawling about, out of shot."
Cut to Billie, going on about psychic powers running in her family.
"My mother..." she stuttered. "She was... a medium."
"Yes girl, and you're definitely a 'large'," muttered one of our band under their breath.

Anyway, there was more film. The annoying drug dealer (oh just DIE) and his waif girlfriend were having an argument - probably the most violent point of the film. Which was a happy coincidence as the following then took place:

In the theatre: A father and two children, aged 8 and 6 wandered in. Clearly Herbie Fully Loaded had just finished, and the father had thought 'Hey, I know. Let's sneak into the next theatre and see a film for free!' So they took their seats.

On screen: "What do you mean, you don't fucking know where the fucking drugs are, you fucking bitch! You moved them! You've been fucking helping yourself!" Slap!

In the theatre: The elder girl squirms uncomfortably in her seat, the younger one sits mesmerised while eating her ice cream. The father looks around the theatre to see whether anyone has spotted him. We wave.

On screen: "Don't you ever fucking hit me again! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" Punch! Blood sprayed everywhere. "Right. You're in for it now, you whore..."

In the theatre: The elder girl pulls on her father's shirt in a concerned manner. The younger one, clearly concentrating on remembering New Words to show Mummy later, continues hoving into her ice-cream.

On screen: Drug dealer cradles his bleeding lover. "Oh, you're so beautiful... so beautiful..." he whispers into her ear, reaching for the scarf to tie her hands to the bedpost.

In the theatre: the father clearly realises that his children have now aged ten years, decides to shuffle them out unceremoniously. The elder girl is slightly too wide-eyed. As the father turns around to give the cinema a final look-over, we give him a round of applause.

Time passes, the film grinds to an end. Someone turned out to be a ghost and someone got impaled on a clock pendulum. We'd already lost interest and turned the film into a drinking game, meaning we were ratted by the time the titles came up. We repaired to the pub to talk it over.

"So they were all invited to that house because they'd killed someone?" I asked.
"Accidentally killed someone," added Gertie.
"Didn't you see that application form for the university?" asked Dan. "Tick boxes for 'age', 'name', 'sex' and 'have you ever smothered your dying mother with a pillow?'"
"Ah," I said.
"I'm hoping for a sequel," said Gertie.
"Where we find out what that Ouija board was spelling out behind their backs in the third act."
"It won't be interesting," I said. "They were very boring students."
"It was probably 'Get some milk in, loves. PS have nicked someone's eggs. Will replace.'"
"Spirit Trap II: Who's Taken My Lentils?"
"I can't really, really wait."
"Yes, I can."


tornwordo said...

Thanks for the morning giggles. I'm in love with the line:
"Clearly mad as a box of hair, but we didn't mind."

Rob said...

It was "concentrating on remembering New Words to show Mummy later" that finally broke me, I'm afraid.

I saw the trailer a few weeks ago. It didn't look promising, but like a true fan I feel I should support it anyway, even though it clearly doesn't deserve it.

Broderick said...

I've never even heard of this movie, but now I MUST SEE IT. Also, when I look for apartments in North London I will MAKE A POINT to have a viewing at Evil Death House Road. It sounds so quaint and beautiful!

circleinasquare said...

I, um, actually HAVE a box of hair;
my long locks shorn in art school days.
I was going to weave it into mourning jewelry, but...
Oh never mind.

Great post.
I was transported.

NYCGuy12 said...

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