#Atomic dog album movie

There’s a massive Barbie ad on the escalator landing. Taking in the scene, you don’t need to be a nuclear physicist to see that Barbie is winning this theater’s marketing battle and is even doing enough heavy lifting for Oppenheimer to benefit. Being late is not an option, knowing that moviegoers paid upwards of $40 for the double feature tonight, not including their outfits, popcorn, and a drink. “We would love to talk, but we’re late for our Barbie showing,” the man says before I can get a good look. One shirt is pink and the other is black, but both share graphics with the movies in question and have Barbenheimer emblazoned in the Barbie font … or is it the Oppenheimer font? I get their attention. I join the long line of people waiting to get inside the theater until I do a double take after seeing a young couple in matching Barbenheimer T-shirts. Maybe my pink is a force field against anyone who’s just seeing Oppenheimer, unclear, but not a soul I speak to tells me they’re here solely for a screening of that film. In the idle din at the moment, I overhear someone ask, “When’s the last time you had fun at the movies?” I can see this is the experience Cruise is probably horny for. No one’s really dressing for Oppenheimer, as far as I can tell - except for the pair of men in blue shirts and briefcases who are running across the place at great speed, late for their screening, I suppose - but a third of the nearly two dozen people I speak with later are here for both. If I hadn’t dressed for the occasion, I would simply look bitter and unpatriotic in the face of everyone else who adhered to the dress code. The sea of pink makes me happy I wore my magenta short-sleeved button-down, even if the sweat I emitted on the MTA’s saunalike platform is so bad that it’s gonna rudely manipulate me into finally taking the 100 percent silk shirt to the dry cleaner, a task I’ve managed to dodge since stealing it from my sister. While loitering in the lobby, I’m confronted by an invasion of every shade of pink - fuchsia and coral and bubblegum and ballet slipper - all marching in lockstep up the escalators leading to the second and third floors. You know, the last seats that were available.” It’s Oppenheimer first and then Barbie for her “because it was just what was available,” she says. She’s ’59.” Mukamal’s fit matches the bandanna worn by her slayful Yorkshire terrier, Ruby, who’s attending the screening with her owner. “I’m the same age as Barbie, you know,” she explains to me, wearing head-to-toe pink. Kathleen Mukamal is doing the double feature alone.

#Atomic dog album movie

It’s July 20, around 5:45 p.m., and everyone’s here for Greta Gerwig’s pink psychedelics or Christopher Nolan’s movie about a man in a porkpie hat. But today, based on the neon-pink evidence at Manhattan’s AMC Lincoln Square, moviegoers don’t want to be saved. Cruise may be under the impression that he’s cinema’s one true savior, brought to this earth to base-jump off cliffs and scale the Burj Khalifa to atone for our sins and sell seats to people who don’t really go to the movies anymore.

Like, fine, the National Association of Theatre Owners is projecting that more than 200,000 moviegoers will do the double feature, per the Wrap, but that doesn’t mean much to someone who hasn’t taken a math class since 12th grade. Before arriving, I had a stray thought that maybe Barbenheimer exists only in the hearts of the terminally online, hyped up by media people such as myself but not really going to make as much noise IRL. After a successful opening weekend of his own, Tom Cruise just might be flopping in the face of these unlikely twin movies, officially born on July 21, that are ushering in a palpably exciting cinematic moment.

Photo-Illustration: Vulture Photos: Warner Brothers, Universal PicturesĪt the corner of 68th Street and Broadway, Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One is serving only one purpose: being my decoy ticket as I enter the world of Barbenheimer.