Michael Moore Teaches Teens An Important Lesson: How To Sneak Into R-Rated Movies

While generally well received by critics, Michael Moore’s new documentary Where To Invade Next won’t be invading cinemas for much longer. The $2,912 it earned per theater is the lowest of Moore’s career, far below the $57,991 his last film, Capitalism: A Love Story, made in its first week of release.

One of the reasons why it’s doing so poorly, according to Moore: Teenagers can’t see it. Where to Invade Next is rated R (as was Capitalism: A Love Story…), because “the MPAA has deemed my film too dangerous for you to see on your own.” So, Moore came up with a way to fix this. It involves making a fake ID.

1. Buy your ticket online. That gets you past the first gatekeeper at the ticket window who wants to see your ID.

2. Speaking of ID – here’s a good site on how to make a fake ID: (CLICK HERE FOR LINK) (use responsibly, not for alcohol or joining the Army)

3. Have a 17 or 18-year-old friend buy the tickets for you, or randomly ask an adult in line to do it. Tell them why you want to see this movie. It’s not like standing outside the 7-11 trying to get a stranger to buy beer.

4. While standing at the box-office window or in front of the ticket taker, try to mimic the way older adults look and sound so as to draw less attention to yourself. Suggestions: be hunched over, look tired, stressed out; have a glaze over your eyes, or a distant stare into a bleak future of abandoned hope. Talk about your 401K or the baby keeping you up at night or something you read in the Wall Street Journal. That should do the trick.

5. If you buy a ticket to another film that’s PG-13 in order to sneak in to mine, may I suggest helping out the box office of Creed, Brooklyn, or Hail Caesar. They’re good movies, and you should come back and see them anyway. (Via michaelmoore.com)

All the other whack kids are going to think you’re so dope and boss when you tell them you snuck into the latest Michael Moore documentary.

Or, you can go to any Regal Cinemas, where the squeaky-voiced teen checking tickets doesn’t care if you’re three babies in a trench coat. Both work.

(Via Michael Moore)

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