Your Favorite Movies, Ruined by Some Jerk on a Cell Phone
Today, the only way a cellular phone can ruin your night at the movies is if one rings in the middle of the film, or if someone seated nearby illuminates their touchscreen to check their text messages. But Hollywood deal-makers never sleep, and they’re only beginning to embrace technology’s ability to ruin your favorite movies from the inside. In the future, we may see beloved classic films revised to more closely mirror the wireless world in which we live.
“Blade Runner.” Deckard easily tracks down all four Replicants in the film’s first half-hour by watching their Foursquare updates on his Nexus One. “Roy B. just checked into Chew’s Eye Works.” “Congratulations, Pris! You’re now the mayor of the Bradbury Building.”
“The Ten Commandments.” No need for a burning hand to carve those pronouncements in stone, when you can just read them on an iPhone or any other mobile device using Adobe Reader LE!
The Stanley Kubrick Collection. It only takes a second to text “OPE,” and no one has to answer to the Coca-Cola Company. Bowman is distressed by HAL’s refusal to open the pod bay doors until he remembers there’s an app for that. And Jack fires up his Droid, brings up the Overlook on Google Earth, and finds his way out of the labyrinth with turn-by-turn instructions.
“Our Man Flint.” The entire movie consists of James Coburn ignoring his incoming calls from Z.O.W.I.E. as he tries to find a replacement for his distinctive ringtone. Ultimately, after toying with “All the Single Ladies” and those tones from “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” he decides that he likes the original ring tone best. As the credits roll, Z.O.W.I.E. finally gets through and Coburn says, “Sorry. I was, um, going through a tunnel.”
“The Crying Game.” Fergus Googles Dil on his HTC Incredible, discovers her abandoned MySpace page, and learns that she’s actually a man. Also, she’s 101 years old.
“Die Hard.” The walkie-talkies are replaced by cell phones; the Nakatomi Building is replaced with the nation’s wireless network; Reginald VelJohnson is replaced with Justin Long; and Bruce Willis’ hairpiece is replaced with a shiny bald head. Oh, wait: That’s “Live Free or Die Hard.”
“Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” Footage of the Augustus Gloop incident is immediately uploaded to YouTube by Mike Teevee, and the factory is raided by the FDA.
“The Empire Strikes Back.” In the process of Jedi training under Yoda, Luke has a premonition of Han, Leia, Chewbacca and Threepio being captured by the Empire and tortured. “I’ve got to go to them,” Luke says. “Call them, you could,” says Yoda, and hands Luke his iPhone. “But … but … there’s no signal! You want the impossible!” Luke whines. Yoda rolls his eyes and uses the Force to boost AT&T’s flagging 3G signal from a nearby planet, and Luke is able to make the call. Not only does he call Han and company away from Bespin, but he arranges a pizza delivery before Yoda takes the iPhone away: “Put me over my minutes, you will.”
“The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” “Hello, Triple-A? Our car broke down and we need a tow. You can’t miss us; we’re about a block away from the only castle on this road.”
“Text M For Murder.” The Alfred Hitchcock classic is retold through SMS. Data charges may apply.
“The Breakfast Club.” Four of the kids, the teacher, and even the janitor hit refresh on their Facebook pages for two hours while Bender talks loudly about the cigar burns on his arm. He is completely ignored. Movies with similar plots: “12 Angry Men,” “Judgment at Nuremberg.”