Plants in the breezeway, an endometriosis booth, turning t-shirt into knapsacks–
The Second Floor Screen:
Straight Outta Comptonwas a well-made, if straightforward and by-the-numbers, biopic depicting the rise and fall of West Coast rap group NWA. Well, some of them. Ice Cube, Eazy-E and Dr. Dre certainly get the lion’s share of the movie’s focus.
Ice Cube’s son is eerily similar to his father in voice and appearance, and definitely nailed the style of his father’s rapping. The recordings, in fact, were the highlight of the film, capturing the ferocious spirit and camaraderie of the concerts and studio sessions.
Also: Suge Knight was, and still is, according to the movie, one of the worst people in the rap industry.
I guess the theme name was an attempt at a pun, so we’re off to great start.
Silky faux cobwebs dangled from the signs. Stevie Wonder hollered from a nearby radio, reminding us that superstition ain’t the way. Jon Snow and Avatar Aang passed each other by the elevators without remark.
It was time to get spooked.
Folks in the breezeway lined up to make lanterns out of mason jars and carve pumpkins into grinning jack o’ lanterns.
The Grand Ballroom was awash with flickering lights, through which wound the queue for a haunted house — well, more a string of connected tents than a house — out of which emanated the requisite shrieks and prerecorded ambient noise and chainsaw snarls. The first episode of the Simpsons’ Treehouse of Horror playing on the projector screen didn’t quite fit in the the room’s atmosphere.
The Second Floor Screen:
Waiting for the night’s feature presentation to begin, they didn’t shut the auditorium doors all the way. Thus one had to endure dueling Halloween playlists: “Oogie Boogie’s Song” from The Nightmare Before Christmas swinging along under the black skies of Wojiech Kilar’s score for Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Michael Jackson singing “Thriller” to the frenzied strings of Bernard Herrmann’s score for Psycho.
So The Conjuringbegan promisingly enough, ratcheting up suspense with James Wan’s nimble camera and a reliance on understated practical effects to depict a story from the case files of exposed frauds Ed and Lorraine Warren.
But things get less understated and, frankly, less frightening as the film goes on. The movie overreaches in trying to connect the demonic presence in the old house to the collection of occult artifacts in the Warrens’ home, and by the end James Wan is trying to outdo William Friedkin for exorcism antics. Here’s a tip, horror filmmakers: don’t try. You likely can’t.
And the breezeway had become a roller-skating rink.
On the far left in that picture, you can see students with parents who had arrived for UF family weekend being spirited away (heh) on a ghost tour.
This was a top-heavy Friday; the rest of the attractions had been crammed into the Grand Ballroom on the second floor. Tina Turner was up on the projector screen singing “Let’s Stay Together” while guests tried their luck and skill at carnival games. Bottle-shooting, ball-throwing, horseshoes, they had it all. Well, some.
Trying skee-ball, I actually sank a 100-pointer. Not bad.
The arcade machines lining a wall of the ballroom provided ample nostalgia for anyone lucky enough to grow up near a real arcade. I didn’t indulge myself beyond “Centipede” and “Pac-Man,” but the machines had dozens of games.
There was a drum kit set up for a band called WD Han, which I had no intention of waiting for or sitting through.
There was the movie to catch.
The Second Floor Screen:
You don’t need me to try and summarize the plot of a Mission: Impossible movie, do you? It’s understood, I think, that the plot is perfunctory, secondary to the stunts and action set-pieces.
Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nationhas plenty of those, and they’d be nice enough — writer/director Christopher McQuarrie, Hollywood scribe behind such winning screenplays as those for Edge of Tomorrow and The Usual Suspects, has a good eye for action, and in Tom Cruise he has a charismatic lead willing to do his own stunts — if it weren’t for the editing.
Even when divorced from needless use of shaky camerawork, the use of excessive cutting to build momentum in action sequences has been the bane of the film industry for years. Editor Eddie Hamilton managed to suck too much of the fun out of the movie’s solid choreography and action staging with his hyperactive work. When things stand still, you can focus long enough to see an excellent action movie trying to escape.
“Show ’em whatcha got!” That was Jay-Z’s sample of Flava Flav, shouting at me from the Reitz Union breezeway.
This particular GatorNight didn’t have much.
There was a long queue for hot dogs, in contrast to everything I’ve seen regarding actual New York City hot dog carts. As I’m not much of a hot dog guy, I passed on that.
Someone named “Joe” was giving away custom spray can paintings, because nothing screams “big city life” like graffiti. A NY green screen photo op and street signs (I have no idea) rounded out the breezeway’s thin offerings.
The Grand Ballroom was taken over for “Drag Ball- Powder, Pearls & Pumps,” held in honor of Pride History Week. The idea, one of the event organizers said, was to recreate the party atmosphere of 80s gay culture. They nailed the array of disco lights, but even when the music started there wasn’t much dancing.
The Second Floor Screen
Watching Trainwreck, I was surprised that Amy Schumer and Judd Apatow hadn’t sooner collaborated; the irreverence of her script and starring performance felt a perfect match for the comedy director’s sensibilities.
If anything keeps the film bobbing above water when so many romantic comedies drown, it’s the fundamental sincerity embedded in most of Apatow’s movies; from the script to the performances (with wrestler-turned-Internet-joke John Cena and basketball star LeBron James as surprise scene-stealers), Trainwreck treats its characters’ relationships with disarming gentleness, for all the crassness of some of the dialogue. It’s rare, these days, to see a rom-com during which one wants to see the characters end up together, and in this Trainwreck succeeds. A personal highlight: the kind of laughs Bill Hader can earn just with the word “No.”