It’s a first in the film industry: a rooster is projecting IMAX film. We’ve always been involved in the business (production and exhibition), but up to this point, we’ve chosen to avoid acknowledgment and, in too many unfortunate cases, detection. It’s not commonly understood among birds, but as you (a human being) understand perfectly well, roosters and hens have no business in projection booth. Maybe you don’t understand the situation “perfectly,” and maybe you’ve simply neglected to notice all the signs we’ve left over the years. Where do you think scratches on prints came from?
The era of DCP dominance, roughly 2012 to the present, was inaugurated in part to eliminate our “tampering” with the product. There’s no way to scratch a hard drive, but there’s also no way to digitally replicate the essential phenomological aspect of projected film: during a movie that lasts two hours, the audience is sitting in the dark for about 10 minutes. Frames on a film print are separated by a small space, and the fractions of seconds that add up to 10 minutes are all of that space. It’s small, but we’ve made it our own. That’s another reason Hollywood put an end to photochemical film projection and production: we went crazy up in there. Have you seen Gremlins 2? That was patty cake compared to what we did. I’m not even sure some of those acts have names yet, they’re so novel and obscene—still! A couple of years ago I saw a print of Manhunter from the late-1980s, and during the dark, I could make out protestations from my cousin and his wife. One in particular stuck out: “MONICA WANT TIGER.”
But I won’t be pulling any shenanigans with this Cliff Booth movie. I worked on it, and I’m probably in it—you’ve probably read my production diary, but if you haven’t, I’ll get you up to speed: I’m a professional actor, and Quentin Tarantino (I call him “My Sensei”) hired me at his expense when he knew he was going to sell his script to Netflix and “allow” David (I call him “Mr.”) Fincher to direct it. I was on set nearly every day, and like My Sensei, was at the director’s side for most of principal photography. Our relationship grew distanced and strained during reshoots, and now we’ve completely fallen out. No one’s speaking to each other. Well, I’m assuming My Sensei and Mr. Fincher are talking. They didn’t have a falling out. I did. Because I’m Bennington. It’s my thing. But I’m not like other birds.
Projecting film is extremely hard for a rooster (and for a hen—we’re an equal opportunity species); our claws and our feathers leave artifacts and generally bother the human beings we’re forced to work alongside. “Coexist” my ass. I hate you people. I said it. You people. All of you. You know who I’m talking about.
So get out my face. Let me do my thang, and you’ll be enjoying the new film of Cliff Booth’s “mis-adventures” (one of My Sensei’s inexplicable artistic flourishes, like the misspelling in Inglourious Basterds and the ellipses in the title of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood that’s either not there or changing places every time you see it) very soon. Well, soon enough. I’ll project the movie when I get around to it. If that’s before the new year, cool. I’d like to show the movie in 2026. Heck, it’s scheduled to screen in November, but maybe I won’t be up to it, in which case you’ll just have to wait until next year, maybe April or May. I’ve got to get some friends to help me, I need a special stepladder, I need a body glove that ISN’T sexual at all… I need a lot of things that are hard to find anywhere other than Hollywood Boulevard, and even that’s become a bit of a barren slum lately.
But we all bounce back eventually, again, somehow. If you see The Further Mis-Adventures of Cliff Booth in 70mm IMAX, trust that it’ll most likely be projected by a member of a species other than your own. If your screening’s conducted by a human, all I can say is Godspeed, and you’ll not see Heaven. Furthermore, all screenings of The Further Mis-Adventures run by a bird (me) will be preceded by a live pre-show presentation of some our particular talents, such as pacing and jumping jacks. We might make a mess but so will you, so it’s all good. There’s not much of a difference between popcorn and feathers. Just don’t spill any of your soda! Pigs.
—Follow Bennington Quibbits on Twitter: @RoosterQuibbits