Richard Linklater's Boyhood was filmed over the course of 11 years and, by all accounts, is completely worth the wait. Also worth the wait: One theatergoer's farts, released with incredible comic timing at a screening of Linklater's masterpiece.
"You Farted During Boyhood," delivered in the form of a missed connection on Craigslist Los Angeles, breaks new wind in the field of flatulence criticism. It would be a shame to abridge it, and Craigslist posts don't stick around forever, so here is the magnum opus in its entirety:
There we were, just enjoying a nice quiet Saturday night at the movies. A slow mover, Linklater's "Boyhood." Some popcorn. A few sodas. Nothing really happens in the film, we found. For about 90 minutes or so we stare listlessly at the screen. It's a thinking man's film, I say. Beautifully shot. It's about life, and death and relationships and things of that nature. Just then, at a brief, carefully-timed cinematic pause in dialogue, an enormous fart from somewhere in the back pierces an otherwise silent movie theatre. It had the impact of a baseball bat hitting a leather couch, or George Foreman working the heavy bag. Whack. Loud, deep and masculine. The seat cushion heroically absorbed most of the blow, but not enough that each and every person in the movie theatre instantly burst into nervous laughter. The laughter continued for what felt like a good 5 minutes, until tears streamed down our faces. Even well after the blast, we quietly chuckled to ourselves with a 'remember the time that guy farted in the movie theatre' gleam in our eyes. And just like that, with a soft chuckle and a deep breath, we were back into the film. Things happened, people drove around Texas, relationships came and went, there was crying, there was hope. It was as if we had all forgotten about the fart that had brought us together that night. As the sun began to set on screen, the teenage boy, no longer a boy, transitions into an adult, before our very eyes, and looks, intently, lustfully into a young girls eyes, as if to lean in for a kiss, and braaaaaaap. Another fart from the back row, like two giant hands clapping together, and the screen goes dark, roll credits. We decided, after laughing our way out of the theatre, and all the way home, that this was the best movie that we had ever seen. I imagine the lone fartist sauntering off into the sunset. His work here done.
If only I could say thank you, kind sir. You are truly a master of your craft.
This tale of two farts doubles as the strongest possible endorsement for Boyhood. The juxtaposition of an intimate, emotionally resonant film and some gas noisily escaping a dude's butt is comedy gold. If the same thing had happened during, say, Transformers: Age of Extinction, the farts would have merely been farts.