I’m a lover, not a hater. So I hate only three things in this world: 1) the New York Yankees, 2) infomercials and 3) TBCs.
I know, I know. You don’t know what a TBC is. That’s because I made it up. TBC stands for “to be continued…” A TBC is a movie that doesn’t end in the normal two-hour time window. Which means it needs to be split into two movies, or three or eight. And, most conveniently for Hollywood, you have to pay full price every time.
Forget SARS. Never mind anthrax. The TBC is the newest plague ravaging our nation. And it’s a plague of the mind.
Let me give you an example, and it may be painfully familiar. I read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, sort of, in a time before time. I mean middle school, of course. I didn’t like it that much back then, but for some reason I was excited when I heard about the supposedly epic, supposedly intricate trio of Lord of the Rings movies coming out.
I plunked down $9 to see the first movie in a land far, far away. I mean Seattle, of course. I hated it. I would have rather sat through three hours of “America’s Funniest Home Videos” reruns. At least Bob Saget doesn’t have pointy ears and talk all funny.
And yet, I felt oddly pulled to the second movie last winter. Like the Force was calling me. Catch the Star Wars reference? Yeah, Star Wars is the king TBC, the granddaddy of all TBCs.
Anyway, the short version of the story is that I spent another three hours and another $9 on part two of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Soon, I’ll do it again for the last part.
I’m no math major, but I count nine hours and $27 that I’ll eventually spend on movies I don’t particularly like. That’s very uncool.
TBCs are everywhere. You know ’em. The Matrix. X-Men. Harry Potter. Kill Bill.
More than a sequel, a TBC makes you think you absolutely must, without thinking about it, without hesitating, see more of the same movie.
Sequels and TBCs are in the same family, but they’ve married in. Sequels are easy enough to filter. I didn’t really like Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo, so I’m pretty sure I’m going to avoid the sequel, Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo. Yes, that is an actual movie that is actually in development.
On the other hand, I will patronize sequels for good movies, like Mission: Impossible. I like to think of movies as a store, and if I like the service, I’ll come back. If not, you’ll never see me again.
But TBCs are like the Wal-Marts of the movie world. You’ll keep coming back, no matter how good the service is, no matter how much you hate it when you’re in the bike section, which is two aisles from the bedding section, which is two aisles from the jewelry section.
I get the same feeling of dread whenever I see “to be continued” on a television program. Shows like “24” use this tactic practically every week. Every episode finishes on the edge of an emotional, or sometimes even physical, cliff.
But a television show doesn’t cost $7.50. You don’t spend $3 on gas and $25 on popcorn and a medium soda (no, I don’t want the large for a quarter more, thank you). Going to the movie theater is an experience, one that I enjoy and cherish. I love walking out of the movie theater feeling good about the movie I’ve just seen.
I never get that feeling after a TBC. Every time I see a TBC, I have the same thought I had walking out of “Kill Bill: Volume I.”
“Dammit, now I have to see Volume II!”
So, that’s that. Aren’t you amazed I was able to write a whole column about such an inane subject? Well, I have even more material that I’m not using here. I’m saving it for part two, which is coming out next summer, probably Memorial Day.
To be continued…
Just kidding.