Sneaking into 'Seed of Chucky'


The following also appears here, in today's O:




Film criticism is a funny business. You're paid for your ability to express something that everyone has -- an opinion. The price you pay for this ridiculous privilege is that, every once in a while, large entertainment bureaucracies tell you that everyone but you is allowed to express it.

Just so last week, when every film critic in Portland was banned -- literally banned, via an e-mail that made sporting use of exclamation points -- from attending the Thursday, Nov. 11 preview screening of "Seed of Chucky."

This screening was, of course, open to the general public.

"Please do not show up or send anyone since I will not be able to let press in," the e-mail read. "Thanks so much for your understanding!! Very sorry for any inconvenience!!"

Now, one can debate whether being barred from a movie named after the ... seed of a homicidal doll is, in fact, an "inconvenience." But it definitely constituted a dare. What happens at a critic-free screening, anyway, other than a notable decrease in snarky titters? Are there bribes? Fewer howling babies? A floor show? Free beer?

I resolved to sneak into the "Chucky" screening (or, if you're a publicist reading this, "I resolved to attend in a non-professional capacity"). I got into disguise by putting on a broad-brimmed hat. In polite society, this would cause me to stand out. But, as I once wrote, the world of preview-screening junkies is "a very real subculture, filled with pear-shaped, bearded cadavers clutching passes scored at record stores, damaged people who've mortgaged their lives in pursuit of bragging rights and a large buttered popcorn." Big hats, duster trenchcoats and ill-trimmed whiskers are practically the uniform at these things.

I arrived at Lloyd Cinemas 45 minutes early, clutching a preview pass that allowed me to join the rest of the hoi polloi in a line that already spanned the length of the building. It was the usual preview-screening herd: die-hard regulars mixed liberally with representatives of whatever niche demographic the movie targets (in this case, Goths, ironists and fans who tend to talk back at the screen) -- plus the usual shell-shocked line virgins who stumbled across a pile of passes, thought it would be a fun date, and now find themselves choking down the notion that they are about to watch "Seed of Chucky" with hundreds of people willing to spend hours in the cold for the privilege.

We filed in. There was, inexplicably, a row roped off for press with no one sitting in it. Otherwise, I regret to inform my fellow critics that

(a) This exclusivist screening offered no bribes or floor show (though, to be fair, no one brought howling babies, either -- unusual at a movie this violent); and

(b) "Seed of Chucky" was actually sort of funny, in that what-the-hell-the-franchise-is-dwindling-so-let's-screw-around way that later installments of a horror series can be funny. There was some inventive camera work. Brad Dourif and Billy "Pippin" Boyd did evil-doll voices. Jennifer Tilly made vicious fun of herself. Redman was disemboweled. As the obnoxious people behind me informed everyone within earshot, there were nods to Ed Wood and "Rebel Without A Cause." And there were a shocking number of jokes about sexual confusion -- the whole film was in fact informed by this weird drag-queen hysteria, complete with a supporting role for John Waters. I actually would have given it a good review, albeit with plenty of qualifiers.

If only they'd barred critics from "After the Sunset" ….

"Taking the 'Chucky' Dare" (The Oregonian's A&E. Nov. 19, 2004)


Posted: Fri - November 19, 2004 at 08:10 AM        

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