Last night, in a rare and incomprehensible act of not having anything better to do, I turned on the television and started randomly flipping through the channels. I was working my way down through the on-screen guide when I suddenly paused and blinked at my screen in disbelief. There, on the Sundance Channel, was the title of a mythical movie that has only ever been spotted in the wild by a select and fortunate few. It’s a documentary titled Dreams With Sharp Teeth, featuring the life and works of Harlan Ellison. I’ve been wanting to see it for ages now, but since it never secured a theatrical release, I’d long since given up hope of ever getting the chance.
Unfortunately, I do not subscribe to the Sundance Channel, so the best I could do was select the title anyway and just throw a long, impotent stare at the blank, uncaring screen. There was text sitting at the bottom of the 16:9 rectangle of absolute black, and as I read it I could feel the scorn from its perfunctory message mocking me for not having the channel in my cable package, even as it taunted me to pick up the phone and remedy the situation. I breathed a sigh of defeat, and decided to hop online to check for other sources for the film.
My first stop was Netflix, but it turned me down flat. I then checked Hulu, and it just laughed at me and pointed at reruns of Family Guy.
Eventually, I worked my way around to the Sundance Channel’s website to see if it might offer a streaming version of the elusive documentary. Much to my surprise, right there on the front page was a furious image of HE himself, clutching a microphone and pointing accusingly at an unseen audience. At the bottom of the photo lurked three words that crept into my heart by way of my optic nerve, and made it skip the proverbial beat: Watch Online Now.
Eventually, I worked my way around to the Sundance Channel’s website to see if it might offer a streaming version of the elusive documentary. Much to my surprise, right there on the front page was a furious image of HE himself, clutching a microphone and pointing accusingly at an unseen audience. At the bottom of the photo lurked three words that crept into my heart by way of my optic nerve, and made it skip the proverbial beat: Watch Online Now.I was grinning when I clicked the link, and I settled back into a less-than-comfortable chair to enjoy my own private screening of the fabled, Dreams With Sharp Teeth. Of course, nothing is ever that easy.
Instead of the complete film, the website features only a small selection of clips, some of which have already been shared during the film’s promotional period, and others that I saw years ago, for one reason or another. I clicked a couple of them, and Brittany kindly watched them alongside me, although she looked on from the considerable comfort of the couch. I, however, was not content to settle for a scant smattering of clips.
Soon, I was scouring the Internet and searching for my own copy of the DVD. I was delighted to learn that it had been slated for release on May 26, 2009! It should be on store shelves by Tuesday afternoon, and I could simply drive to a Best Buy or a Suncoast, or perhaps a Barnes and Nobel to pick up my copy. I smiled and shut down the computer, satisfied that I would finally see the movie the next day.
Sergeant Buck Nekkid, Texas Ranger!
Of course, I failed to take into account that I live in the murky depths of America’s armpit, where the only thing worse than breathing in the odious stench of the stagnant, swampy air is being forced to try and have an intelligent conversation with the wretched human detritus that haunts this backward land’s numerous trailer parks. Still, I held out some small glimmer of hope that at least one store might have the film in stock today. That is, until I actually tried to find a copy. When I called one of the stores more likely to have the item, I knew I was in for disappointment as soon as I was greeted with the monotone voice of a disinterested retail employee, who’s rote memorization of the store’s greeting script was a testament to the healing power of a public education.
“Hello,” she said with a complete disregard for feigned enthusiasm, “thank you for calling Such-And-Such, where you can blahblahblah and bibblebabbleboo your favorite movies. Would you like to reserve a copy of Madea Goes To Jail today?”
“No, thank you.” I said. “I’m looking for a DVD that is supposed to be released today. Can you tell me if you have it?”
“What DVD is you looking for?”
“It’s called Dreams With Sharp Teeth.”
“Dreams with a what?”
“Dreams With Sharp Teeth. It’s a documentary.”
A dramatic pause, followed by an extended and ominous “Ooooooooh” sound, followed by, “It’s a documeeeeeeeentary. Yeah, we’s don’t gots it, I don’t think.”
“Would you check?”
“Fine. Hang on.”
It was at this point that I assume I was supposed to believe that the sounds of keystrokes followed by beeping and the clack-a-clack zips of a receipt printer were intended to indicate that a search was in progress. If so, then the, “Thank you for shopping at Such-And-Such!” at the end of the proceedings is, apparently, how all such searches are concluded.
She picked up the phone and said, “Sorry, we ain’t gots none.” *click*
Ah, to live in Texas! There really is no finer cultural vacuum in all the universe, no matter what anyone tells you about Kansas.
“Repent, Texans!” Said The Educated Man.
Thankfully, we live in the wondrous age of the Internet, at a time when any one of us can call upon the ancient forces of eldritch Amazonian gods to invoke an overnight delivery of just about anything. So, barring any sort of natural disaster or unfortunate national emergency, my copy of Dreams With Sharp Teeth should arrive on my doorstep sometime tomorrow. I’ll be back later to tell you why you should care.
Don't you wanna be cool, too?
