God is not on your side

Movie premieres are always about to be a disaster. Publicists, photographers, reporters all run around in a state of panic, screaming that they didn’t get the shot, the quote, the coverage they absolutely, one hundred percent, life or death need. But despite all these histrionics, events usually go off well enough. After all the bitching and complaining everyone uses what they got, and chats all jaded about what an over-the-top-mess the whole thing was while sipping on some free alcohol.
And then, last night, there was the Fantastic Four premiere, which was an actual disaster (insofar as party type things can be disastrous), a catastrophic comedy of errors that got more and more absurd as the night wore on. I’m predicting right now that this film is going to do crap at the box office, and not because I'm psychic or have any particular insight into how movies make money or have seen the trailer (quite a convincing piece of evidence that is though) but because that shit is totally, 100% jinxed. Jinxed by some crazy force of madness with a wicked sense of humor that is probably the pagan gods who will not be satiated with a can of Coke.
Begins innocently enough with me sidling up to the press table down at the Liberty Island ferry station in Battery Park (event is out by the Statue of Liberty. First. Ever. Premiere. There. Such a bad idea) Girls there inform me that the one and only press ferry will be leaving at 6 and the first ferry back is at 9, before the screening begins. Which means, I say to the girl, “we’re being held captive for 3 hours,” and she smiles, “pretty much.” Oh, if only.
So I get in line with the other 200 press people there because there’s nothing else to do. There’s a disproportionate amount of press considering that there’s no one particularly high-profile in this film. I mean, Jessica Alba is the highlight. But it’s a slow week. We have to pass through metal detectors and remove all watches and belts for the x-ray machine. This enormously difficult woman I’m standing next to refuses to remove her watch. It’s silver and pretty and probably costs a lot, but what harm do x-rays do to your watch? There’s not a gremlin sitting inside there stealing valuable possessions. It’ll come out the other side in about 5 seconds. The head security guard isn’t as offended as me, and he lets her keep it on.
Then we get to stand in a diesel fueled tent for half an hour before boarding the ferry. The sun has just broken through the clouds, but it’s still grey and damp. We get on the boat and it’s rocking about 2 feet up on each side, totally gag-worthy.
As we pull into the island it starts to rain. A little at first, but more by the minute. All 200 of us are herded underneath this enormous wooden structure with a pitched roof but no sides. The rain is almost horizontal because of the wind, so it’s impossible not to get wet. We stand there for an hour.
This whole thing reminds me of summer camp. Warm, wet, and you’re stuck someplace, so I wonder out loud if anyone has any cards. Cameraman Steve, a self-professed Card Player, has a pack missing the 4 of spades, and four of us sit down to the most boring and longest game of gin rummy I’ve ever played. It’s increasingly annoying that I never learned how to play any card game that’s interesting at all, like hearts, spades, bridge and now it’s too late. All I do is play solitaire and go-fish.
So then the “people in charge” or whatever, tell us to divide ourselves up into print, TV, and still photography. Why they had us do this while it was still pouring rain, I don’t know, but there it is. Meanwhile publicists are also saying back on the mainland they’re deciding whether to move the premiere or not. Obviously, they should have moved it, but hindsight is 20/20.
Miraculously, around 7:30, the rain clears. We’re all marched over to the gift shop/ cafeteria, where the press, and only the press, is fed yellow food in enormous quantities. I eat chicken tenders, French fries, and score a souvenir cup size soda. There’s low grade looting going on at this point, with just about everything not nailed down, including Statue of Liberty chocolate bars and commemorative cups, disappearing into our voracious maws.
Then we go over to where the screen and chairs have been set up and the press is in a large U shape at the back, with an excellent view of Lady Liberty’s ass. Workers are furiously toweling off the very wet seats, and other are repainting the screen, because it was still damp when the downpour started and all the white paint had gotten washed away. We chill there for about an hour. The first boat of people arrives around 8:15, and the actors don’t get there until 9, 2 hours late. They’re mostly nice, but also cranky- some dude’s publicist even says to me, “I’ve been sitting in the Ritz Carleton for hours.” Boo- mother fuckin’-hoo. Please go find me a vodka tonic.
So bladiblah, around 9:45 we’re still waiting on people and it’s totally time to score some free alcohol. We run over to the free drink stand and gather up beers for the lot of us. At this point I’m totally in a good mood. It’s been a ridiculous evening, but it’s beautiful out, I’m having fun, I have cold beer and the only thing bothering me are these nasty translucent bugs attracted to the light.
Alba bails on the press claiming nausea. It doesn’t matter very much to me, but this is incredibly foul behavior. She really has no where better to go, and all these press people are only here to talk to her.
It’s 10 p.m. and the crowd has now been waiting for 2 hours, so it’s time to begin the screening, which means it’s time for me to leave.
We go and score some more beer and free ice-cream and head towards the ferry. Which we are told will not be leaving for another hour and a half. Holy Shit! It just keeps getting better. Apparently the press ferry that was supposed to leave at 9:00 left with no press on it, and now we have to wait. People, who’ve been generally good-natured, start getting a little belligerent. The only person down by the boat is the ferry guy, and he’s not in charge. He’s waiting for word from some publicist or another, and says the boat will go after the fireworks.
Which start right now. Off some barge rented out for the occasion. There are lame ones that I initially think are hearts but are supposed to be 4s. How do they make such things?
So then we get on the ferry. Top deck, all wet, but a nice night. We just sit there. Then a man gets on the PA and says “Forget them- Pull the plank. This ferry was supposed to leave at 9:30.” Cheers. Five minutes later, over the PA and dejected, “put the plank out.”
And then all of a sudden a crowd starts making their way towards the ferry, because, get this, THE PROJECTOR BROKE!!!! So best! 10 minutes into this ass clown movie and the projector stops working because of the weather. Ha!
So then all these people, including Alba and Michael “The Commish” Chiklis, have to get back on this boat, where the celebs are cordoned off into a glass windowed room on the prow, and exhausted little kids sleep on their mom’s lap, and we all just sit there laughing and laughing.
We dock a little after 11 and Fox has limos to take people to the Battery Park theater for anyone who hasn’t learned their proper lesson- this movie was not made to be seen.