I am a glutton for punishment. This hasn’t always been the case. I blame the recent shift in judgment on two old friends.
For years I avoided scary movies like the plague. If blood, killing, screaming, kidnapping, or aliens were involved, I was not. Eerie fog? Escaped psycho villains? Not a chance. So, you would think that when these two so-called friends suggested not one, but two horror movies on one uneventful night, I would have protested more than I did. I blame it on the lure of the 3D experience “My Bloody Valentine” offered. Because the next thing I knew, there we were, sporting lopsided 3D glasses on the couch in a very dark living room, watching a bunch of teenagers meet their gory demise in a creepy old coalmine.
I feel that night may have given me a false sense of security. Sitting in the comfort of my own home, locked safely away from the outside world (and only a few inches away from the light switch) helped make a much braver audience member out of me. By the time the second movie ended, my feathers were puffed and I felt ready to face the big screen. A few weeks later, I walked into my first true horror film experience and thought back to my living room and miscalculated the ridiculousness that the directors had thrown at us. As the opening scenes from “Drag Me to Hell” began to play across the 40-foot span and the increased decibels of the surround sound filled my ears, I quickly realized how wrong I had been.
This is where the gluttony comes in. Even after clinging to the person next to me for the entirety of the movie and swearing afterwards “never again,” it wasn’t long before I found myself standing in line saying “one please” for Jennifer’s Body. If that wasn’t bad enough, the company responsible for “Paranormal Activity” decided Harrisonburg needed to “be a part of the phenomenon,” leaving me yet again watching a movie with only one eye half open, hiding safely behind both hands.
Despite the terror I face each time, I find myself begging for more. Although it’s much cheaper to watch from the safety of Huffman Hall, my 13-inch ten-year-old Sony just doesn’t compare to the theater experience. This dilemma is why I can’t wait for the free advanced screening of “The Fourth Kind” next week. I just hope whoever sits next to me is prepared to deal with the screaming, gasping, and possible clutching that very well may occur.