Fade in. We fly into a somber, dark evening in America. Our chair throws us back at a 45-degree angle. Popcorn spills on our lap. Everyone starts laughing. It leans forward. It leans to the side. It bumps up and down. OK. We guess this is pretty fun. We could enjoy this. It’s like being on a roller coaster, except that there’s also very quick vibrations beating on our butt cheeks.
The scene zooms into Deadshot (Will Smith’s vision of Will Smith playing a Batman baddie) punching a sandbag behind bars. Bam. Bam. Bam. Our butt is hit with three punches from a topless Will Smith. That’s a feeling we never thought we’d feel. More punching. More butt vibrating. The seat punches into our spine. More spine and butt punching. Is this going to happen every time someone throws a punch? We guess we’ll cancel the massage we booked for Sunday.
Switch to a very serious Viola Davis (in guise as fictional DC government official Amanda Waller) on the screen. Superman’s dead. She’s talking about recruiting the bad guys. We can’t concentrate much because everything is still vibrating. Zoom into her face—“They’re the worst of the worse”—and our seat thwarts back. Dun. Dun. Dun. Then she introduces the squad. There’s Deadshot shooting stuff. Strobe lights. Rapid fire butt punching. More on our right butt cheek than my left, though. That’s annoying. They could at least make it even.
Then comes Harley Quinn and The Joker. They speed down the city in a car chase. Our seat throws us forward. Then to the side. Speed bump. Acceleration. Where’s the seatbelt on this thing? And yep, queue the wind. A strong, icy wind which hits us right in the face. We guess it does feel like we’re sitting in a Ferrari. But this wind is seriously strong and cold.
The others get introduced. There’s a croc/lizard guy/monster. A tattooed fire guy. A guy with an Australian accent. And another guy. Oh wait. Flashing strobe lights. Furious ankle tickling. Slow, throbbing butt vibrations. Nope. The other guy’s dead now.
Queue squad-walking-in-slow-motion scene. Will Smith speaks. “What are we, some sort of Suicide Squad?” Seat throttles for full impact. The team walk into a bar to discuss something very serious. A loud “poof” fills the cinema. A stench fills our nostrils. The guy next to us starts choking. It smells like nail varnish. Or really sweet smelling vomit? Our eyes water. Wait, is that meant to be the smell of alcohol? Um. OK. We guess it does kind of remind us of being on Khaosan Road.
Welcome Cara Delavinge to the screen. She’s some sort of exotic witch and meant to be the main victim here. To be honest, we’re more scared of what our seat might do to us next. She flies around threatening people in a dark mist. Fog spews out in three explosions beneath the screen. We can no longer see anything. “Enchantress.” Literal chills vibrate down our spine. Right butt cheek also now dead. Seat throws forwards, backwards, to the side. We’ve been on planes with smoother rides than this during turbulence.
The squad takes refuge underground in a cave. A scent like a fart in a wet sock spits into our face. The guy next to me once again look like he’s suffocating. Someone on screen dives into the water and—yep—we’re spat on with water in the face. Freezing cold water. More strong wind. Water. More water and wind. Our 3D glasses are covered with droplets and our face is dripping wet. We should’ve bought a raincoat.
Here comes the Joker on a helicopter. Queue helicopter-speed rattling vibrations. Harley Quinn’s hanging on a rope. Clouds of rain form above us. Mist spews into the air. Everything now damp. Zoom into money-making shot of a wet Harley Quinn. More serious talking from Viola Davis. Will Smith lines up his gun… takes aim…. shoots one powerful, dynamic shot. Right into our butt.
Address: MX4D, SF World Cinema, 7/F, CentralWorld, 999/9 Ratchadamri Rd., 02-264-5555. BTS Siam/Chit Lom
Price: Mon-Wed B450; Thurs-Sun B500
See pics of SF's new MX4D cinema below:
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