911 Centigrade

I didn’t think I would do it this weekend. I had friends visiting. I had things to do. There would be other weekends.

And I uncharacteristically scorned MoveOn.Org’s suggestion of a week or two ago to take a pledge to do it. A pledge to watch a movie? I don’t think so. I’ll pledge to call my congressman, give money, or hold a house party. But I won’t pledge to see a movie. Much as I adore Michael Moore, and much as I planned to see the movie, I drew the line at that. And I didn’t even blog about it (or much of anything–hey, I was camping, cut me some slack!)

And then, the weekend approached and people began to ask me which showing I was seeing and could I watch their kids while they went to this showing and did I have tickets and what would I be wearing and who would I be going with and would we be renting a hotel room and did we hire a limo and…well, you get the idea, it was no longer an option not to attend this weekend. It was no longer a question of whether, it was all the other details that mattered. To not see this movie on the first weekend it opens is like not voting. It’s not an option.

And so, like everyone else in my corner of the demographic political woods, I saw Fahrenheit 9/11 this weekend. To be precise, I paid $5 to see it at 12:15pm on Friday, the first showing in Sacramento at the Tower Theater Save the Tower.

The 7:45 showing was sold out before we got there. Our showing sold out, and the one after it did too. Rumors of Bush-supporting hecklers spread through the crowd like wildfire (okay, fueled largely be me, but…). We glared suspiciously at each other, looking for the telltale signs: hair that doesn’t move on women, lack of hair on men, flag lapel pins or crassly displayed crosses. Surely that man with a beard and birkenstocks couldn’t be one of them? Nah, the notebook means nothing.

Due to a misguided last minute attempt to cop soup and bread at the Tower Cafe, we’re stuck in the front row with Susan Barnhill and Ed, necks craned to take in even 50% of Michael’s girth. We are thrilled. We are atwitter. At the last minute, I cause everyone around me to gasp by asking loudly sotto voce, “this is the Passion of Christ, right?”

It’s not the Passion of Christ. But it does have an audience of true believers and plenty of gore (both upper and lower case). And it’s moving and educational and provocative and everything else it should be. And now, a day later, I’m babysitting for my niece so my brother and sister-in-love can fulfill their civic duty.

Yes, (:)(:)(:)(:) Four Snouts up for Fahrenheit 9/11 and for the hype and for Michael Moore’s projected $30 million dollar weekend. Meanwhile, my son is eager to take the pledge to see Spiderman 2 at midnight this Wednesday. He can’t wait to see Doc Oc.