An Exclusive Scoop

Part 3

11 minutes in. There are children everywhere. Popcorn is being thrown around. Laughter to be had. The director did a quick introduction before the movie rolled which made the whole thing feel more official.

So far I've noted that the opening credits are catchy. And Leslie Mann is stunning of course. Thomas Hayden Church's character is a dick, and reminds me of a few ex-boyfriends myself, the porters and narrator are my favorite characters so far.

I'm seated 9 rows back on the far right next to the stairs. We were on benches. Like American bleachers. I thought 'hell no' at first, but it's not a bad seat. A member of staff gave me a cushion to sit on and nobody was next to me.

The view was fine too. They managed to turn the zoo into a cinema. Often from behind the screen, a giraffe walks by.

It enchants the children and even me against my better judgment. So far our leading man hasn't shown up, and then I'm reminded that almost everyone I've seen on screen so far is going to be meeting me afterward.

While they were in the middle of the scene where THC's character wanted to leave, I looked around for that man I met outside. But I can't see him. It's quite dark in the auditorium and the sky is a very dark blue above. The stars have just begun to come out.

Then I look to my right and I see him about 14 people away.

He's staring at me.

Then he smiles and waves. I smile and wave back lightly. Then turn my attention back to the screen, scribbling notes as I go during the next scene. The fiance drags the leading leading into a clearing in the jungle, looking for the white ape. 

'Don't move.'

'You mean I actually found one? It worked?'

'God that scared me.'

'Scared me too.'

Now the children are screaming at the lion that emerges from the bushes to attack the leading lady and her fiancé. I straighten in my chair ready to pencil in my first impressions of the leading man who I was guessing was about to make his entrance.

The music swells, and the lion has the character of Ursula cornered. The camera pans up through the trees to a thick branch, where with a dimmed sunlit background, our leading man appears.

I blink and can practically hear all the women in the crowd swoon. Perhaps some of the men too. The directors and producers begin to cheer to encourage the children in a panto-fashion to cheer for the hero.

There he is, donned in nothing but a leopard print loin cloth.

The music builds to an epic climax as the leading man swings across the screen yodelling, then the music abruptly stops as he crashes into a tree in the other part of the clearing. The children laugh wildly. I find myself chuckling softly.

I stop scribbling for a moment, and I feel myself feeling something very strange. Something in the pit of my stomach. I raise my eyes back to the screen.

I lean forward as if to give myself a better view of the screen, and I squint my eyes in the dark to get a better look at the actor's face.

Where have I seen that face before? I wonder. I've seen it before. I know I have.

Now the actor's face is on the screen alone. Antagonizing the lion for a fight.

With my eyes wide I say, "Oh my god," and I drop my notepad and pencil and they clatter through the beam next to my feet, down through to the bottom of the bleachers.

My hands have clasped my mouth and I can feel myself wanting to run. Wanting to die.

Maybe I'm wrong. I put my face in my hands to make it all go away.