Watching a movie, from behind ‘bars’…

Here I am at the theatre hall.

Popcorn in one hand, hotdog in other hand. Soda in soda-holder. And pissed-off chick in the next seat.

It’s not my fault I’m late. Come on!

Being a ‘kawa’ Kenyan I blame it on the jam, the mats, jobo, the rain, the cops, anything that’s blame-able, just not me.

And anyway, the movie hasn’t started yet. Get over it.

So here I am about to watch a movie I’ve never heard of. Never seen a poster of. Never read a synopsis of. For the second time (the first was when we watched “Rollerball” with the boys. Never forgiven that boy since), I’m about to watch a movie I have no inkling of a clue called an idea about.

Besides, it’s the chick who picked it so it can’t be that bad. She usually picks “pinky” movies. Yaani, girly girly, romantic movies about high school teens with supercharged hormones. (jeez, I need a new movie mate). Basically movies whose main colour scheme is pink. They are boring but bearable.

So I’m seated here prepared to get bored out of my wits by this movie. It’s called ‘Grudge 2”. Never even heard of or knew there was ‘1’. My popcorn-filled brain, with kidogo space left for thinking about my fly (pissed) ‘mama’, thinks it’s a movie about a teenie in some Ivy League campus who was dumped and now holds a grudge.

How wrong a synopsis.

The first logo appears on screen with some deep bassed soundtrack that has me thinking. But it’s the next logo that gets me REALLY thinking.

It’s opens on a keyhole. Camera peers into the keyhole and a skull jumps into view. Popcorn flies about. Then the name “Ghosthouse Production” appears. A chill runs up or down (who cares) my spine.

Ghost what?

I’m still drunk with popcorn, but not too drunk coz I look at my mate. I give her the what-crap-movie-is-this look.

She doesn’t answer. Instead she stares straight ahead.

Opening scene.

A ‘zombie-like’ lady is making burnt bacon (or something) for a bitching husband. She serves him the bacon. He continues bitching. She walks behind him. Looks at her pan. He bitches. She looks at her pan. He bitches. She looooooks at her pan. He bit__

She turns slowly. Pours the contents, which is hot ‘Elianto’, on the husband’s head and hits a ‘home run’.

TING!

Husband is on the floor giving his last kicks. Wife is seated enjoying the breakfast. Bila feelings.

It’s now that I really look at the chick. This time I voice my concern.

What’s this?

“I don’t know. Si you picked it.”

(In mother-tongue) I almost knock her senseless.

It’s then that I understand why the movie hall is empty. Everyone, except me, knew what “Grudge” is all about.

You can ask movie buff (?) or couch ‘tato to write the synopsis because I still can’t tell what else went on in that movie. I watched it safely from behind my fingers. Nusu nusu.

The only thing I heard throughout were mournful screams, shrill screams (a higher percentage from my companion) and a statement that made my evening.

“I have a headache.”

‘Mama’ kumbe is scared shitless too. Mpaka kichwa inauma.

Epilogue.
Movie ended but not my popcorns. There was nothing to enjoy. And I peed most of my soda.

I WANT MY MONEY BACK!

I don’t like horrors. Never have. Never will. I’m a wimp like that. I get scared like fifty tois. And since I have an active imagination my thoughts are very disturbing. Not to mention the dreams. And I will never ever, EVER, go watch a movie I don’t know about again. Ama one she has chosen.

ZIIII!