Phillyist Tried to Review... Ocean's 13

We are about to hit pay dirt. I can see the entryway to the theater ahead of me. Then, like the White Knight, an older gentleman swoops in and informs in an oh-so-gentle tone that the theater is, indeed, full to capacity.

I believe him.

Those who have been fortunate enough to survive more than seventy years on this earth have no motive. They tell no lies. We begin to gather our dejected selves and begin to exit the line. As we are exiting, a semi-gay Ritz employee confirms the White Knight’s news – the inn is full. The song remains the same.

No Ocean’s 13. No George Clooney. No Brad Pitt. No Andy Garcia.

What does this all add up to? It speaks to one of the core values that Americans hold dear: when free shit can be secured, secure it at all costs.

There is something to this, though. The idea of hard work is foreign to most Americans. There is a sect of those who work hard for what they receive – they earn their way. Most of us, though, gripe about difficult tasks.

Think about it.

In college, students create blue books in an effort to know what courses, professors, and/or textbooks are favorable to acquiring an easy ‘A’. When a course is difficult, bitching pollutes the discourse of any discussion of that particular class. “Do you believe the amount of reading that we’re assigned on a nightly basis?” “How unfair was that exam? Where did he pull those questions out of?”

Taking a course that you know to be a cake-walk is, in effect, getting something for free.

There is an entire sub-culture of people who exist upon free shit. These are the people who are anxiously waiting for the time that the Amtrak attendant doesn’t return a receipt with your purchase of Lipton Iced Tea and Lays potato chips – making their purchase free. These are the folks who aren’t dissatisfied with their meal until they’re two-thirds of the way through it. My neighbor at home-home (home-home: my place of birth and adolescence) is like this. I think she once staged biting into a piece of metal in a doughnut from a local bakery in order to have her teeth capped. Seriously.

Free wares are thrown at us constantly. Just recently, I made a purchase at Best Buy and the cashier asked me if I wanted to receive six free months of various magazines. For some reason, I agreed. I spat my information to her, she typed it into the computer, and I was on my way. Four weeks later, I received US Weekly, Time, Rolling Stone, and Sports Illustrated. I already receive ESPN the Magazine, Esquire, and Rolling Stone (subscription count: two), and my roommate has a subscription to the Wall Street Journal (also a freebie – from Kaplan). Clearly, I am not in need of more periodical entertainment (pun intended), but it was free; what am I going to do, say ‘no’?

But why?

There is something about receiving things without cost that makes a body feel important, special or greater-than. Your existence suddenly has meaning because someone acknowledged that you are deserving of their gift. It’s a D-rate feeling of celebrity.

Humans are fattened by the idea of celebrity and all of the things that come along with it. Why not take the chance to get your piece of the pie, no matter how small? It seems logical.

I don’t know what this has to say about arriving more than thirty minutes in advance for a screening of Ocean’s 13, but I know I’ll never do that again for any reason.

Unless it’s free.