After working in a movie theatre for nearly the last seven years, I’ve got a number of observations to make about seeing movies in theatres, and why I hope I never do it again.
Probably the worst problem I faced while working as Head Usher at the movie theatre was the customers. Of course, the vast majority of my customers were a pleasure to deal with. They knew that seeing a movie in a darkened theatre with others was a special experience, and they did their best not to become a part of the experience for others, except for their measured reactions to what they saw on the screen.
But there was a sizable minority of customers who made moviegoing a nightmare, particularly for someone like me, who likes no disturbance whatsoever when I choose to see a movie.
The worst problem is talking. Talking to your companion, talking to the screen, or worse yet, talking on the phone. People are so used to watching movies at home, where talking to your family and housemates about the movie or household matters is normal, that they carry that behavior with them. A lot of customers think they're being considerate by turning off the ringer and using text messaging, but that’s nearly as bad, because the light emitted from their devices is bright enough to draw the attention of those sitting adjacent and all the individuals sitting behind them.
[Believe it or not, I had to listen to talking all around me when I was taken to a screening at the Writer’s Guild of America, west Theatre on Doheny in Los Angeles. I could not believe that writers, who fight for respect for their work, would be whispering constantly throughout the entire movie. I guess I’m like Hans Christian Anderson’s Princess And The Pea, because I’m so sensitive that I can hear someone unwrapping a cough drop nine rows behind me.]
Yes, I know that a customer who is being disturbed by another can always get up and summon an usher to come in and try to resolve the problem. However, once the customer gets up to fetch the usher, he is now “out” of the movie, even before he goes through the doors.
Another big problem is crying babies. I realize economic times are tough, but if you can’t afford a baby-sitter, STAY HOME. When everyone else is watching a quiet psycho-drama, nothing ruins the experience faster than a fussy baby.
Don’t get me started about food. Yes, I know that every movie theatre sells popcorn, and the aroma of freshly-popped popcorn is one that I use to put myself into a “movie” frame of mind. But when the aroma of popcorn fights the aroma of Chinese, Mexican, or Indian take-out, (all three colliding is a nightmare) it doesn't make me hungry, it makes me nauseous.
If you’ve been reading this blog, or you know me, you might recall I had a heart attack, quadruple bypass, and valve repair surgery 4 years ago. How does this relate to movies? First of all, I’ve learned to suffer in silence when any of the above occurs during my rare visits to movie theatres. I don’t allow myself to get disturbed enough to warrant getting up and asking for assistance from the staff to resolve the problem.
The ramifications of my heart surgery mean that I have to watch my cholesterol, sodium, and glucose intake. Which means everything sold at the refreshment counter is strictly verboten for me, except for the exorbitantly priced bottled water.
Another problem concerns the content. Many of today’s releases have stories or content which does not appeal to me. And when one of the independent houses has a festival or revival, the film I want to see almost always plays just once, at a time I can’t make it.
All of the factors I’ve described above lead me to the unalterable conclusion that I hate going to movie theatres. Besides what I’ve described, I also don’t like having to actually GO to the theatre at a designated time which I did not choose, and sit with a bunch of complete strangers to watch the movie. I have to tolerate the disturbances they make, and also the lack of hygiene, or worse yet, overpowering cologne, for a couple of hours.
I’ve come to regard Netflix, Turner Classic Movies, and IFC as manna from Heaven. When I grab my mail and I see one of those red envelopes, I say a silent, “Hallelujah!” Don’t mistake me for a snob; I enjoy Adam Sandler’s “work” as much as the next neanderthal. But more and more I find myself choosing foreign movies or old American black and white classics for my Netflix queue.
As soon as I finish this post, I’ll change into my favorite pajamas, put on my slippers, and pop in Les Demoiselles de Rochefort (The Young Girls of Rochefort, 1963) starring a young Catherine Deneuve. I’ll sit down in my favorite chair with a salad and a Caffeine Free Diet Coke, and press the PLAY button. If I get cold, I’ll pause the movie and grab a blanket. If I need to go to the bathroom, I can pause the movie again, until I return. If I miss a subtitle, I’ll go back and read it again. (Try that in a theatre.) And then, in my peaceful surroundings, with Jewel the Cat in my lap, I’ll go off to “Movie-land.”
--30--
