May the odds be ever in your favor

After the cloud of opening-weekend dust had settled down, I finally saw The Hunger Games today.

I couldn't have picked a better time to see it if I'd tried: it was a Monday afternoon at 4:30. Most of the working adult force were still holed up in an office somewhere, most kids had come home from school and were knee-deep in homework. The theater was still in one of the huge midnight-showing kind of rooms, and there were probably a grand total of five people in the theater. Just the way I like it.

The movie? Augh, the movie. I may be echoing the sentiment of the bajillions of people that have already seen it before me, but it was everything I'd hoped: faithful to the outstanding story, a beautiful specimen of a film that was poignant, provoking, and a wonderful illustration of the Suzanne Collins book. The gilded glitz of the Capital was all too awesomely portrayed. Loved. It.

I cried during the movie, and I swear to you, the last real time I'd cried in a movie theater was one of the six times I'd seen Titanic. It was too beautifully touching for me not to, you guys.

Not that I'm too keen on ranking things with a star system, but The Hunger Games is absolutely a five-out-of-five. Maybe six-out-of-five.

PS: I'm such a fan of the fact that this was shot only a hop-skip-and-a-jump away from me along the Appalachian Mountains. Holla.