What I’m (Not) Watching This Weekend
I’m about to finally watch this movie I’d been meaning to put on for five years now. Bought it, just never got around to it. Amazing how easy it is to do for half a decade. How do I know this? Amazon remembers the exact purchase date, a stark reminder of my myriad minor failings.
It’s the perfect timing for this viewing. It’s fresh on my mind, and I’m taking it out of the case. Yes, believe it or not I have a DVD player. I’m actually off the couch for once. This is monumental. Here we go.
Why does it keep spinning like that? It’s supposed to play or go to menu. Let me press “play” again.
Still nothing. More spinning.
Okay let’s eject. I look to see if the disc is positioned properly. Yep. My eye catches the label: Blu Ray.
This DVD player isn’t compatible.
Well, so much for that. Perhaps I can decide on another movie. Ooh, this one looks good. Four dollars to rent? No thanks. I’m okay with paying three. But four? They must be insane.
Okay, no biggie. I look for another. Without noticing, I spend the next two hours reading film descriptions. First on Netflix, then Amazon. These are riveting paragraphs of plot synopsis and cast and crew info, apparently so riveting I forget to actually try watching them. Who knew Sidney Poitier directed comedies? And I didn’t know Robert Vaughn and Robert Fuller were two different people. Evidently, there are plenty of Roberts out there, and more than one of them actors.
No way. Coming To America 2 is finally out?! Sign me up. This is fun, only my internet isn’t used to this streaming. The Wi-Fi prefers functioning on my noncommittal browsing, not actual playing of a movie. Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall keep buffering, the spinning TRON disc at the center of my screen matching the regal jewelry of these two royals of Zamunda. Despite valiant attempts at streaming, interminable interruptions in my piss-poor internet prompt me to leave Amazon Prime’s app.
There’s another film I really want to watch. Surely, cable still offers it. Just last week it was available. I’d never got around to it. Excitement building, I race to the kitchen and make popcorn. I even brew coffee. I don’t want to just watch this movie. I want to Leonard Maltin the fuck out of this movie. Maybe even write a review that makes it into the New Yorker and inspires young auteurs to concoct future masterworks.
Giddy from this lull in utter film-seeking failure, I race back to couch, sliding with socks on slippery linoleum, spilling only a kernel which my befuddled dog slurps up without a thought.
Finally — finally — I can at least watch this movie I’d been meaning to see. I turn on my cable box and quickly punch the film title into the search. The sooner I’m off this default Spectrum News channel, the better. I press okay on the selected movie.
It’s no longer free “On Demand.” It’s now a rental. Four dollars.
Disgruntled and hangry, I focus on masticating popcorn. This should occur when a film is being enjoyed, or at least, on. But the universe deems this weekend pastime verboten.
I browse my phone for an alternate way of watching the original movie I’d intended to watch. Not available on any major apps. Amazon, Apple, Crackle, pop — no. You Tube — no go. Sketch piracy-esque site — bingo. But I don’t condone that shit. Besides, do I really want to watch it on my phone to begin with? Not a chance. I’d rather watch ants reenact Shakespeare, or Leave It To Beaver on a cheapo 50’s micro-screen with face literally “glued” to the tube.
Appetite sated on Orville Redenbacher’s, I opt for TCM’s app and miraculously the internet likes my choice well enough to stream sans Zamunda-buffering hiccups. My choice in movie: Videodrome.
