For the past month, we’ve been writing and completely geeking out about Quentin Tarantino’s filmography in Keep it on the QT, counting down to the release of Django Unchained on Christmas day. On December 1 (between Jackie Brown and From Dusk ‘Till Dawn–chronologically backwards), we met to chat about the usual blog things and other important topics (ie. Bette vs. Babs, tea, and pretzel necklaces). We also shared the most exciting news of all: we’d both just read that QT was coming to town in just over a week to premiere Django. Immediately (and overly giddily!), we set a goal. By the power of Pai Mei, somehow, someway, we had to get to that screening.
ACT 1: ADMIT TWO (X TWO)
The first step? Email Alliance Films and ask for tickets. After a few days of anxiously waiting and not hearing, we decided to enter every contest we could. The deal was, if either of us won, we’d bring the other. And in what now seems like an epic early Christmas miracle, our circulaton-cutting finger-crossing paid off. Emily won a 5 p.m. draw on the eve of the premiere! (OMFG. We are seeing Django and Tarantino. Tomorrow. Together. Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique me, as I am dead! the accompanying texts read.) Then, Michelle won a different draw at 7 p.m! Now that, ladies and gents, is what Col. Landa would call a BINGO!
ACT 2: THE CHASE SCENE
The next day, we seriously struggled to contain ourselves and our visions getting to tell the man who has inspired our lives and our blog. We were focused on one thing and one thing only: getting ourselves downtown to the theatre (Toronto’s Scotiabank) in plenty of time. The movie was set to start at 7 p.m., but the invites warned us to get there early, or else risk not getting in (MOVIE GODS FORBID!).
With both of us uptown until 5 p.m, it was a race to the Scotiabank, as we trudged our separate ways through rush hour with one expertly chosen and lucky friend in tow a piece. Michelle was there first, after catching a delayed streetcar, sprinting to the theatre, missing the unmarked Alliance ticket table near the cinema entrance, running up the never-ending escalator to find she had to run back downstairs for her ticket and back up again. Emily followed not too long after, bringing her extremely flushed face with her.
After several subway delays, Emily had to run to the Scotiabank. She wouldn’t have survived it (cardio ain’t her strong point), had she not been listening to her “Deadly Viper Assassin Squad” playlist. “L’Arena” blared through her headphones as she grabbed for the door, crossing the threshold into temporary Tarantino dreamland. I guess I won’t get buried alive this time, she thought to herself.
ACT 3: THE HOT SEATS
After a short wait in the line (and having our phones checked-in–bye buddy, see ya after the show!), our next task at hand was deciding where to sit. We found seats in two middle-ish rows, but had to split into pairs. The wait for Tarantino’s entrance seemed endless (and of course no one knew what time it was without their phones). We tried to tide ourselves over with popcorn, fancy mixed fountain pop and fangirling with the people around us (“What’s your favourite Tarantino?” “OMG, that’s mine tooooo!”) . Then, George Strombo took the spotlight. We can’t really tell you what he said, because we knew his appearance meant QT would be up there soon and therefore were too busy pinching ourselves to pay attention.
ACT 4: Q! (BUT NO Q & A)
Then suddenly he was there! Before our eyes! Talking to us! Directly to us, Emily and Michelle! (Obviously not, but don’t crush our dreams.) He got us all rallied up for Django before laughing, “Turn off your fucking cell phones! Oh right, we took them from you. HAHAHAHAHA.” After his maniacal laughter, the theatre fell silent and all heads followed him as he walked to his seat … IN OUR ROW. Quentin Tarantino was sitting in our row. Right there, a few seats over, the greatest film director of all time was sitting, about to watch a movie with us. (Later we’d play it cool, “You know, just catching a flick with our ol’ buddy Quentin…”)
The next three hours were pure (in)gloriousness, everything we expected, wanted and more. Sometime toward the end of the movie, QT disappeared. We didn’t notice until the credits started a-rollin’ — we were to enthralled and staring at DiCaprio’s rotten teeth! When we thought about it afterward, we did recall seeing some people running out of the theatre before the film’s finale (probs chasing for him an autograph/photo/draft of his scent/foot massage). We didn’t get a chance to say goodbye (Auf Wiedersehen!) to QT though. Although it was sad and we had hoped he might say something more at the end, perhaps let us ask some Qs, we were still on a high, not only from watching yet another brilliant entry in the stacked Tarantino oeuvre, but also from watching a movie with our favourite cinematic genius.