Whenever I try to think of movies I disliked, Reign of Fire (2002) leaps to mind. I remember virtually nothing about the movie itself beyond the fact that it was very pyrotechnical. I think it had something to do with flying dragons and a threat to earth’s survival -- not the kind of movie I would ordinarily have much interest in seeing. I was stunned to discover that Christian Bale and Gerard Butler were in it: I have no recollection of seeing either of them. I only went to see it because my newly arrived German houseguest really wanted to. Sadly, the aforementioned houseguest succumbed to jetlag the minute he settled into his seat and left me at a midnight showing of a movie I didn’t want to see in a theater sparsely populated with random geek-boys and one snoring German. It brought back uncomfortable memories of watching Paul Newman in WUSA at a sleazy all-night movie theater in Times Square, but that's another story.
Said houseguest (whom I love eternally) is going to read this blog and say (as he always does), “Kannst du das nie vergessen? Das war vor neun Jahren!” Actually he’ll say it in English; I’m just trying to spice things up here. So if you are reading this, erstwhile snoring German houseguest, forgive me; the hundreds of good movies that you’ve introduced me to more than make up for this one night of stupefaction in the midst of the apocalypse; but it was such a unique movie moment that I had to tell it one last time. And now, I promise, I will retire this story and never again mention Reign of Fire, unless of course I watch it again someday and discover that I actually like it.