I remember when my addiction began.

Excited costumed patrons, debating intensely over the superior film. The packed, stuffy theater and the smell of buttered popcorn. And then it began at midnight. Everyone applauded as Lord of the Rings: Return of the King appeared on the screen.

It was my first midnight film première. Obsessed with Lord of the Rings lore myself, the first film in the trilogy was a proper introduction to midnight screenings because I was surrounded by fellow fanatics. However, I now find myself heading to midnight premières whether I have vested interest in the movie or not.

I love a packed theater full of die-hard fans. They bought their tickets weeks prior to the screening.

They did their research and know all sorts of tiny details. They are out at midnight on a Thursday with work or classes to attend to in the morning, but none of that matters because this is where they want to be.

There are many times where this devoted audience has enhanced my film experience. For example, I enjoyed the awful Spider-Man 3 much more when viewers were yelling at the screen and called Mary Jane a slut when she kissed Spider-Man’s best friend.

I have also been a part of this crazed audience. I admit that I dressed up as Batgirl for The Dark Knight première. I cheered like no adult should when Transformers began. I fell in love with Iron Man when the clock struck 12.

Tonight, I will be going to yet another midnight movie in a theater full of giggling girls, split between Team Edward and Team Jacob. I may think that the movie will pale in comparison with the book, but I know I’ll revel that midnight experience all over again.

— by Sarah Larson