San Diego Comic-Con is, more or less, Mecca for nerds like myself. It's probably not something you can do every year, but you pretty much have to go at least once in your lifetime. What started as a comic book convention in 1970 has, in the last few years, evolved into the largest pop culture convention in the world. Its official name, Comic-Con International: San Diego, could not be more accurate. While there, I met quite a few fans from other countries, such as Canada, England, and Germany. It is a place where nerds of all kinds gather to nerd out over nerdy things with other nerds, perhaps one of the few places where they can do so without judgment. (Except from the Jesus picketers, who showed up around Friday.)
This year was the first that I was able to attend after nearly half a lifetime of seething with jealousy over everyone who got to go, and one of the first things people ask me when they find out I was there is, "Did you have fun?"
Hell yes, I had fun. It was Comic-Con. If you don't have fun at Comic-Con, you're doing something wrong. (Or you're working it. I have a feeling some of the volunteers weren't having a good time.) Because Comic-Con is full of all the things that make me ridiculously excited. It's kind of like an all-you-can-eat buffet, only instead of food you get free posters and comic books and t-shirts and panels full of people like Seth Green and exclusive footage from Frankenweenie, and hey look there's Shawn Ashmore just meandering through Artists' Alley and it's the fourth time you've seen him this weekend, I hope he doesn't think you're stalking him.
It wasn't all fun and games, of course. Before I left for San Diego, when people found out I was going, they'd tell me, "I hear it's a lot of waiting in line." Yes, it is. You have to wait in line to pick up your badges. You have to wait in line to get into the convention center, to get into the panel rooms, to draw for autograph passes. You have to wait to purchase merchandise. You have to wait for the bathroom. Over one hundred thousand people packed the convention center over the span of four days, and they all had to go somewhere. Lines for the big panels (like the Warner Brothers panel, containing about eleven minutes of footage from The Hobbit) stretched for upwards of three miles, tickets for the Game of Thrones autograph session ran out before we got up to the table, and the exhibit floor was so crammed with people that I got claustrophobic a couple of times.
There was so much to do and see that you often had to make some difficult choices, like if there are two panels you want to see at the same time, which one do you pick? Should you wait in line for the panel for a particular show or the autograph session? Are you willing to give up an entire day at the convention to sit in a panel room, sitting through panels for shows you don't even watch just to make sure that you have a spot for that panel you're super excited about? Are you crazy enough to camp out on line to get into the panel room in the first place? My friend and I went in with the plan that we would pick one thing we wanted to do each day, and if we were lucky, we'd get to do it. It didn't always work out the way we planned -- we didn't manage to snag those Game of Thrones autograph passes after all, and waiting in line for those guaranteed we wouldn't be able to get seats for the panel, but that meant we got to make the Robot Chicken panel instead.
And I'm not going to lie, it wasn't cheap. My friend and I were in San Diego an entire week, not just for the convention but to be tourists as well, and cross-country airfare isn't what I'd call inexpensive. I'd wager that I spent approximately $1000-$1100 on that trip, and it would have been more if I wasn't worried about overdrawing my checking account or any of my credit cards had wiggle room. (Plus, I had to buy a new phone while I was there.)
The second question people ask, upon finding out I was there, is, "Was it worth it?" Was the experience worth the money? Was it worth the hassle of waiting in all of those lines, of dealing with all of those people?
Hell yes, it was worth it. My sole reason for wanting to go to Comic-Con was this: Merlin. I love Merlin. Yes, the show is a little (a lot) ridiculous, and it's certainly not going to win any Emmys, but it's fun and entertaining and it puts beautiful people on my screen every week, and one of those beautiful people is Colin Morgan, who is a perfect human being. And Merlin, despite airing on Syfy, doesn't do any press in America except for SDCC (at least not in person). They're currently filming season 5 and it's been widely speculated that season 5 will be the last (mainly because I'm pretty sure the producers did an interview where they said they had a five-season plan), and so I figured that if I didn't make it to SDCC this year, I would never ever get to meet the cast.
Anyway, I was able to score passes to an autograph signing for Colin Morgan and Katie McGrath, and like a complete fangirl I brought Colin peanut butter, but I have a picture with each of them in addition to their autograph, and there is video evidence that Colin high-fived me. It was probably the greatest five minutes of my entire life. Plus, we were in the fourth row for the panel the next day, perfectly positioned to have optimal viewing of both the cast and the screen, where we watched the season 5 trailer and bloopers and a hysterical faux interview with Bradley James and Rupert Young.
Plus I met Kevin Williamson, James Purefoy, Shawn Ashmore, and Chris Hardwick. I shook Kevin Bacon's hand (my thirteen year-old-self was pissing with excitement). I was in the vicinity of Martin Freeman and Richard Armitage. I breathed the same air as John Barrowman and Tim Burton. I got free posters and comic books, a free Superman t-shirt and a Hobbit pin. I bought a K-9 bobblehead and a TARDIS lunchbox. I have pictures of Optimus Prime, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and a Hulk made out of LEGOs, not to mention some seriously epic cosplay. I was in the live audience for the official SDCC Nerdist podcast.
We may not have gotten to do everything we wanted, or everything we planned, but I got to meet Colin Morgan and get awesome seats for the Merlin panel, which was the reason I was there in the first place. Seriously, those five minutes basking in the presence of Colin made the entire trip worth it for me.
Would I do it again? In half a heartbeat. Provided someone else pays, because I really don't think I can afford to go back anytime soon.
Showing posts with label cosplay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cosplay. Show all posts
Monday, August 6, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
The Culture of the Midnight Premiere
It's 9:00 on a Thursday night and the line stretches around the block. Many of those who wait are dressed in costumes of varying degrees of elaborateness. Several people have brought guitars and are serenading those around them. The atmosphere is eager, electric, excited. Hardly anyone complains about the length of the line or the amount of time still left to wait. This is the line for the 12:01 showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2.
In the early days of cinema, "midnight movies" were films like El Topo and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, low-budget horror flicks like Night of the Living Dead, campy films like Pink Flamingos. They still are, of course. There's at least one movie theater in New York City that still shows The Rocky Horror Picture Show once a month. By contrast, most mainstream movies ran at more "traditional" hours in order to garner the most box office draw. Even fifteen years ago, it was rare to see a mainstream movie play past 11:00.
Recent years, however, have seen an upsurge in midnight screenings. In 2012, it's become almost commonplace for movies that are expected to be big blockbusters to have a 12:01am screening on the day of release (at least in America) -- the more showings a movie has, the bigger the opening weekend box office, so studios like to open films as early as possible. This trend wasn't always so popular. For Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, my friends and I bought our tickets the day of, it was only playing on a few screens, the theater near my college was not that crowded, and the only person in costume was the reporter from the local television station (she dressed as Harry). Yet for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, just two and a half years later, we bought our tickets weeks in advance, dozens of people sported Hogwarts robes and House ties, it was playing on at least half of the theater's twenty-four screens, and though we arrived around 10:30, our theater was already mostly full.
The midnight premiere of a movie can be an epic experience, and every one is different. They won't all be full of boys playing guitars, or even people in costume (my midnight showing of The Avengers was mostly a bunch of people in various Marvel-related t-shirts). But more often than not, you're surrounded by avid fans of whatever film (or book, or television show, or what have you) you are there to see. After all, most people aren't going to say awake until 3am to see a movie in which they're only somewhat interested. Still, who doesn't want to be the first to see a highly buzzed about new movie? Who can wait even twelve hours to see that film for which they've been waiting months, if not longer?
Fans generally go above and beyond for the midnight premiere, making the hours leading up to the opening credits almost as enjoyable as the movie itself. It's almost a miniature Comic Con -- for most of a convention is waiting in line, meeting other fans, inquiring where people bought their t-shirts, and admiring the effort people put into their cosplay. My midnight showing of Attack of the Clones started late due to technical issues, so a giant group of Jedis entertained us with a lightsaber battle. My friends were among the few people in costume for The Hunger Games and were often asked to pose for pictures as well as interviewed for one of the local stations. At the aforementioned Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, before we were allowed entrance to the theaters (it was playing on every screen), some fans reenacted favorite scenes from the series while others took video or photographs. Most of us in the IMAX theater were seated by around 10:30 with nothing to do but twiddle our thumbs, so wizard rock duo Lily & James performed for us.
Seeing a midnight premiere is an experience quite unlike anything else. To be surrounded by other fans, to be enveloped in the excitement that can only be generated by a bunch of nerds gathering in one place practically vibrating with anticipation, it's something that really resonates. Watching a movie with a group of genuine fans is almost like watching live theater -- these are the people who cheer the Lucasfilm logo, who sob when they play "Hedwig's Theme", who stay to the very end of a Marvel movie because they know there's always a coda. It's difficult not to get swept up in the atmosphere when you're with people like that.
I believe everyone owes it to themselves to attend at least one midnight screening in their lives -- especially if it's a movie they're excited about. Trust me, if it's the right film, the right experience, it is completely worth the lack of sleep the next day.
In the early days of cinema, "midnight movies" were films like El Topo and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, low-budget horror flicks like Night of the Living Dead, campy films like Pink Flamingos. They still are, of course. There's at least one movie theater in New York City that still shows The Rocky Horror Picture Show once a month. By contrast, most mainstream movies ran at more "traditional" hours in order to garner the most box office draw. Even fifteen years ago, it was rare to see a mainstream movie play past 11:00.
Recent years, however, have seen an upsurge in midnight screenings. In 2012, it's become almost commonplace for movies that are expected to be big blockbusters to have a 12:01am screening on the day of release (at least in America) -- the more showings a movie has, the bigger the opening weekend box office, so studios like to open films as early as possible. This trend wasn't always so popular. For Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, my friends and I bought our tickets the day of, it was only playing on a few screens, the theater near my college was not that crowded, and the only person in costume was the reporter from the local television station (she dressed as Harry). Yet for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, just two and a half years later, we bought our tickets weeks in advance, dozens of people sported Hogwarts robes and House ties, it was playing on at least half of the theater's twenty-four screens, and though we arrived around 10:30, our theater was already mostly full.
The midnight premiere of a movie can be an epic experience, and every one is different. They won't all be full of boys playing guitars, or even people in costume (my midnight showing of The Avengers was mostly a bunch of people in various Marvel-related t-shirts). But more often than not, you're surrounded by avid fans of whatever film (or book, or television show, or what have you) you are there to see. After all, most people aren't going to say awake until 3am to see a movie in which they're only somewhat interested. Still, who doesn't want to be the first to see a highly buzzed about new movie? Who can wait even twelve hours to see that film for which they've been waiting months, if not longer?
Fans generally go above and beyond for the midnight premiere, making the hours leading up to the opening credits almost as enjoyable as the movie itself. It's almost a miniature Comic Con -- for most of a convention is waiting in line, meeting other fans, inquiring where people bought their t-shirts, and admiring the effort people put into their cosplay. My midnight showing of Attack of the Clones started late due to technical issues, so a giant group of Jedis entertained us with a lightsaber battle. My friends were among the few people in costume for The Hunger Games and were often asked to pose for pictures as well as interviewed for one of the local stations. At the aforementioned Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, before we were allowed entrance to the theaters (it was playing on every screen), some fans reenacted favorite scenes from the series while others took video or photographs. Most of us in the IMAX theater were seated by around 10:30 with nothing to do but twiddle our thumbs, so wizard rock duo Lily & James performed for us.
Seeing a midnight premiere is an experience quite unlike anything else. To be surrounded by other fans, to be enveloped in the excitement that can only be generated by a bunch of nerds gathering in one place practically vibrating with anticipation, it's something that really resonates. Watching a movie with a group of genuine fans is almost like watching live theater -- these are the people who cheer the Lucasfilm logo, who sob when they play "Hedwig's Theme", who stay to the very end of a Marvel movie because they know there's always a coda. It's difficult not to get swept up in the atmosphere when you're with people like that.
I believe everyone owes it to themselves to attend at least one midnight screening in their lives -- especially if it's a movie they're excited about. Trust me, if it's the right film, the right experience, it is completely worth the lack of sleep the next day.
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