Spooky's Not So Short Movie Review

I've waited a long, long, long time.  

It wasn't the greatest movie ever, but it was a very good movie. It was so much better than anything I'd expected. And it was most definitely a religious experience.

I arrived early, worried it might be a sell-out on opening night.  The crowd grew as I purchased my ticket and handed over a small fortune for a large Dr. Pepper.  Within moments I was settling into the best seat in the house - halfway between the front row and the mid-point of the theater.  Far enough away that you don't have to hold your head at an odd angle, but close enough that the rest of the world is dwarfed into inconsequence.

The theater filled while I watched the people around me.  A group of college guys parked on the seats in front of mine, debating the minutia of the DC universe like students at pretentious comic book seminary.  Families packed the middle of the rows, their daughters and sons asking questions during the pre-previews-preview-show.  The parents seemed to do an adequate job of answering; espousing nothing heinously heretical.   This time of year, a lot of my clergy friends are discussing the Holy Trinity and the pitfalls of heresy surrounding it.  In my world, the DC Trinity of Wonder Woman, Superman, and Batman is cussed, discussed, and the heresies of recent cinematic adaptations are railed against.  (As well as the not so recent - anyone else remember that Cathy Lee Crosby made-for-TV movie?)

As the lights started to dim, one other unaccompanied woman made her way down the side aisle of the theater.  Her footsteps were careful as she dragged an oxygen tank half as tall as she behind her.  She chose the seat at the end of my row, sitting gingerly then arranging the oxygen tube into a coil on her lap.  

Our eyes met briefly just as I realized I was staring.  

I couldn't help it.

She'd waited longer than me.