I was talking with an older friend of mine recently and he told me he hadn’t been to a movie theater since 1966. Thinking about it, I can’t say I blame him, considering the American cinematic experience of late. Granted, he’s missed The Godfather, Goodfellas and Apocalypse Now, but on the other hand he’s avoided The Godfather III, Mission Impossible II, Battlefield Earth, A.I. and Ishtar (that’s right, I’m still going after Ishtar!!!)
The list of ham-fistedly predictable and disastrously disappointing debacles goes on and on, but the real disillusion comes from the actual movie theater experience.
I CANNOT $*@%!& STAND GOING TO THE MOVIES!!! It makes me physically uneasy and mentally combative when I shell out that much money for such an unpleasant social experience. I know this is a subject that has been recurrently reworked by stand-up comics and Andy Rooney-esque curmudgeons since the advent of the cell phone, but I figured I’d give it a shot myself.
The girlfriend and I recently went out for a night to an out-of-town theater to check out the new Spielberg flick Minority Report (I shouldn’t give that man any more money after his complete bastardization of Stanley Kubrick’s vision for A.I., and he continues to steal from the master in this flick with his slapdash use of classical music and bleak futuristic outlook. And why can’t this guy learn how to wrap up a film like he used to? In E.T., the spaceship flew away and it was over. In Jaws, the shark blew up and it was over. In both A.I. and Minority Report, the endings are tediously drawn to their obvious conclusion, making the audience hope for the ending credits like a drowning person anxiously searching for air.) We had been disappointed with the service at this particular place before, but chalked it up to the fact that we had only gone to matinees (we usually go to matinees because there are less people to potentially piss me off). However, the hope that management would bring their A-team out for a crowded Saturday night was dashed before we even got into the theater.
As I shook the attendant awake in an effort to give him money for my overpriced admission, he informed me that he "ain’t got no change, yo." The three other employees gossiping at the ticket booth were unable to go look for change as well, so we were forced to use a credit card – at the girlfriend’s suggestion, no less, since this archetype of apathy wasn’t quick enough to come up with that alternative all by himself.
So $19 and five minutes later, we entered the concession line were we met an equally mind-boggling level of ineptitude. After unsuccessfully attempting to hustle me into the larger sized popcorn, they dragged our service out due to along conversation with four different employees about how lousy the manager was (I’ll give them that one) and a lively debate with another employee over which one was root beer and which one was Diet Pepsi. If you take the pimple-faced whiny kid from The Simpsons and combine him with an airport security agent who recently got fired from his job on the counter at McDonald’s, you get the typical movie theater employee.
But now that the cinema workers had gotten me in the right mood, it was the audience’s turn to fan the flames of my sweeping forest fire-like rage.
- HOW MANY PEOPLE NEED TO BITCH ABOUT IT BEFORE PEOPLE STOP TALKING ON CELL PHONES DURING MOVIES???
- AND WHY BRING KIDS TO AN R-RATED MOVIE THAT THEY’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND, GET BORED OF AND EVENTUALLY DISRUPT WITH THEIR CRYING?
- WHY DOES THE SMELLY GUY ALWAYS HAVE TO SIT NEXT TO ME?
- AND SAVE THE COMMENTARY FOR AFTER THE MOVIE – NO MATTER HOW LOUD YOU YELL, THE ACTORS CAN’T HEAR YOU!!!
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera…
For the love of God, people – can’t you get it? I singled out this particular theater because it’s the last one I’ve been to, but the story is the same all over the place.
I don’t want to hear those poor crybabies in Hollywood whine about lousy box offices anymore. If ticket prices continue to skyrocket while film quality and customer service continue to plummet, you’re not gonna get my money to pay for your wife’s tenth nose job. And unless Blockbuster stops making up late charges for me and the pay stations stop running Ready to Rumble in their regular rotation, I’m just gonna stop watching your crap all together and read more books.
(Maybe that book threat will get through to them, because that’s just how desperate I am!)
If you know how I can effectively waste $50 in the Metro-area, please write to:
"’Hal Wastes His Wages"’
c/o The Hudson Current
1400 Washington Street
Hoboken, New Jersey 07030
Or via e-mail:
Current@hudsonreporter.com