Good evening readers. Before you freak out wondering if Bo has lost his flavor, I will warn you that I am not him. In fact, he is trapped in traffic and possibly witnessing the beginning of the zombie invasion. But for now, the floor is mine (insert maniacal laughter here).

Recently Bo and I were discussing the fact that we were both incredibly excited to see the film Quarantine in the theater. We both love [REC] and are saddened by the fact that we missed the theatrical experience with that film here in the States. As much as I enjoyed it in the comfort of my own home (even as I kept looking over my shoulder for the lanky hammer-toting girl) I know that nothing replaces the joy of seeing total strangers squirm right along with me.

I had such an experience when I saw The Grudge. That was perhaps the last time it happened until Quarantine. During the screening of the former I had the pleasure of being surrounded by movie-goers who squealed with delight at all the right moments. There was even an amusingly foul-mouthed nine year old seated behind me. That night when I returned home I was left with a distinct feeling of unease. It was so distinct, in fact, that I slept on the sofa fully clothed just in case some vengeful ghost decided they wanted to take their pain out on me. I can only imagine the audience enhanced that experience for me. And I loved it.

But I have discovered that this is not the case for all films. The theater had exactly the opposite effect on me when I attended The Blair Witch Project. That was a packed house and most of the patrons were not quite ready for the constant jostling of the cameras or the nausea-inducing dips and twirls as the picture went out of focus then back in again. On that evening I was unable to be completely immersed in the film. There reactions were not fear

based, rather complaint based. Therefore I didn't find it scary at all. However on a subsequent viewing in the privacy of my dark and quiet home, there were times when I noticed I was almost trembling. Watching Heather's reactions to the situation and allowing myself to be there gave it a whole new twist. I was there and it worked even though I had seen it before and knew exactly what to expect.

Going into Quarantine I was a little nervous. What if it wouldn't work the same way as The Grudge? What if seeing [REC] first ruined it for me? What if this type of film is only effective when you can put yourself in the moment like with Blair Witch?

What I discovered was that I had nothing to fear...but the film. The audience around me was as silent as the grave through the majority of the film. The only sounds were some occasional twitters I can only apply to nervous laughter for there was certainly nothing funny about what they were seeing. For the most part, they seemed stunned and unable to react to the horrors that were playing out before their eyes. And in the end, as soon as the credits began to roll, the woman behind me exhaled. It was the long, deep exhale of relief. At first I was afraid that they didn't feel what I had hoped they would but right then I knew that it wasn't that the film wasn't working, it was working just fine. Perhaps it worked too well for some. And the more I think about it, the more I realize they were quiet because they didn't know what else to do. Again I felt the tension that I had felt with The Grudge even if it wasn't audible. The air was thick with it, I just couldn't hear it.

I am still unhappy about missing [REC] while surrounded by strangers locked with me in a grip of horror, but I feel a little better now. This type of experience doesn't come along often enough, especially considering the disappointments that have come from Hollywood recently, but when it does, it makes the wait worth the while.