The moment is
almost upon us…
As anyone who
has sat within earshot of me at any point in the last five months will know,
The Hunger Games hits cinemas this week.
To say I am excited would be something of an under-sell.
This is one of
those weeks where the movie geek that lives inside me breaks out of her
otherwise quiet existence and consumes me, turning a normally sensible (sort
of) human being into a raving, raging lunatic who speaks of nothing but
casting, exposition and correct ordering of movie credits.
For the most
part I like to think I keep that part of myself on a reasonably short leash. Alright, so that’s a big fat lie – in reality
I have to restrain myself from climbing over the seats on the bus to shake the
teenager behind me who incorrectly quotes Patrick Swayze in Red Dawn. My point, however, is that my geekdom, which
rears its head for every Big Movie Event, is at its worst this week – not only
is The Hunger Games going to be a spectacle (and I do love a spectacle) it has
the enormous responsibility of living up to one of the best books I have read
in a long time.
In the week that
the first reviews start to pour in via Twitter and the like, the anticipation
gives way to something much worse – the anxiety. People who know me well know that I live and
die by the movies. I love them or I
loathe them. I have outrageously
over-the-top reactions to the slightest error in continuity or a laid-back
attitude to basic plotting. My tastes
are diverse, though I abhor pretension in all its forms, and there’s nothing I
love more than a good adaptation. And there’s
the catch – a good adaptation. Can The Hunger Games possibly live up to the
hype? Can it possibly be as tense, as
compelling, as downright entertaining as the book?
And here comes
the anxiety. I have every possible faith
in Jennifer Lawrence. She showed her
quality in Winter’s Bone and her style in X-Men: First Class. She’ll do Katniss proud. It’s the other casting decisions that leave
me a little less confident. On first
reading who had been cast as the male leads, I assumed the article had
accidentally switched them around – Josh Hutcherson as sweet, sensitive
Peeta? Really? I like the actor, but I’m struggling to see
him in this role (though I’m hoping to be pleasantly surprised). And I’m skipping right by Lenny Kravitz…
Then we have the
violence. Seven seconds of cuts had to
be made for the UK 12A certificate.
Director Gary Ross and the cast have seemed cautious in some of their
interviews about how the blood-shed in the arena would be portrayed on screen. The idea of toning it all down makes me just
a little bit squeamish.
Last, but
certainly not least, on the list of things to make me crazy is the dreaded omission. You know, that favourite part of your
favourite book that didn’t quite make the cut (take a bow, Deathly Hallows Part
2), or that crucial piece of exposition that was left of the cutting room floor
(Twilight, I am looking right at you)? The
idea of what might be left out is enough to keep this geek awake at night.
So thankfully we’re
heading into the good days – anxiety gives way to anticipation. I’m not talking about the generic “I’m
looking forward to seeing that movie” type of anticipation – I’m talking about squeal-at-every-tv-advert,
smile-at-every-poster, WHY-ISN’T-IT-FRIDAY-ALREADY?! (Some call it hysteria, I call it being a
fan.) This is the kind of
anticipation/madness that will set in tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll fume all day long, knowing that I could go see the film tomorrow night but that I should wait to pay day (ie Friday). I’ll amuse myself by weighing up the relative
benefits of IMAX and normal screenings, the varying levels of comfort offered
by competing cinemas and the best time to go to minimise the chance of someone
talking through the movie. Most of all,
I will spend the whole day thinking “please, just let it be brilliant.”
If I make it all
the way to Friday before seeing it (unlikely), I’ll be ready with a review on
Saturday. I’m ready to love it. I want to love it. The odds are in its favour. (Yes, I went there.)
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