**Batman trailers to follow—do not read if you don’t want any details of the movie spoiled.**
So, I was sitting at the bar with my dad. After sampling the local Omahaian micro-brews, it was decided that we should probably have a couple shots of tequila. By the time he brought up seeing Batman at the IMAX the next day, I had some pretty warm cheeks. I agreed to do so. By the time we actually made it back to his house, I had had two too many drinks, and ordered the tickets online, right then. If only I had been thinking.
And it was a cool experience, really. I mean, IMAX movies are always cool in my opinion. I enjoy them immensely. But it was the third. time. I. have. seen. it. The first time, on a date with movie store guy, was fun. We went to a matinee. It was exciting—you didn’t know what was coming next. I loved it. The second time was with some girlfriends. Again—decent. Started making connections—recognizing the foreshadowing that you don’t see the first time around…
The third time, IMAX and all, was enough. More than enough. Too much. I had lines memorized basically. I can imitate the Joker’s laugh, and it’s good. I closed my eyes when the guy broke his legs on the fall off the building. I knew exactly which point it was when Rachel was going to be blown to smithereens. I knew that Harvey Dent was going to wake up without half of his face, and that the commissioner was actually alive. I knew all of this before it actually happened. Now, tell me, why did I think it would be a good idea to see it a 3rd time? The repetitiveness of it all has pretty much spoiled the movie for me, and I doubt I will ever need to watch it again in my life. We should have stayed at the casino playing video poker, drinking rum and coke, and losing to the slot machines.
Yes, I know. My dad is cool.