I tried to find solace in a movie theater. The darkness, the solitude, the escape from the multitudinous strangers doing their after-Christmas shopping would do wonders for my soul. I would lose myself in the lives of celluloid heroes. I would immerse myself in an imaginary life. For a brief two hours I would forget my troubles.
I waited impatiently for the lights to dim. But even when they finally did, I was awash in a faint green glow. Movie-goers flipped open their cell phones as soon as the Previews of Coming Attractions started. The woman next to me answered the cheerfully melodic chime of her cutting edge phone, easily heard over the voice over guy and the crashing cars and booming shotguns of the Previews. “Hello? I’m watching a movie”. No you’re not, I said to myself. You’re talking on the freakin’ phone and sharing the experience with every other movie-goer in the place.
A man in front of me opened his cell phone and started playing a game on it. Did he hate the Previews that much? Was he that uninterested in what was coming to the silver screen? The man next to him very carefully and considerately talked as quietly as he could, barely audible, telling his caller he was watching a movie. He had his phone jacked up to the max, and I could hear his caller’s side of the conversation clearly. It was very inconsiderate of him, only letting the rest of the crowd in on half of the conversation.
Some teenagers settled themselves into the seats behind me. They were giggling hysterically, as if it were the funniest thing in the world that they were in a theater and sitting down to watch a movie. Uh oh, this was trouble. Sure enough, one of the teenagers let out a huge fart as he told his cell-phone “Hello? I’m watching a movie.” More giggles as the Previews went on and on.
The commercials started, telling me how I could rent this space and reach an audience of thousands. More previews. Finally, the theater darkened completely and the movie started. The Dolby sound system crashed and thundered to the opening scenes. The people talked louder and louder, struggling to be heard over the din. “Hello. I’m watching a movie”. The green glow of the cell-phones cast an otherworldly pall over the images on the screen. As the majestic strains of the final chords of the opening credits echoed over the theater, the teens behind me let out another string of giggles, and I waited for the inevitable fart. Instead, it was a burp, and the Pepsi flavored fumes drifted my way.
The crucial opening scenes of the movie started. The entire plot hinged on them. I learned forward in my seat, struggling to make sense of the softly spoken lines over the cacophony around me. “Hello, I’m at the movies.” “HI, I’M WATCHING A MOVIE”. “WHAT, NO, I’M AT THE MOVIES”. I learned further, holding my breath to block the scent of the Apples and Lemons hair treatment of the woman in front of me. If only I could catch the words, read the lips, I could settle into the imaginary world I so desperately desired.
“HELLO, I’M WATCHING A MOVIE. YES, THE CRITICS DID NOT LIKE IT, BUT I DON’T CARE IF THE BABY IS ASLEEP. SO I ASKED IF SHE MINDED IF I ASKED HIM OUT. NO, BUT YOU HAVE TO BAKE THE POTATOES BEFORE YOU PUT THE MEAT IN. I’M SORRY, I’M SO SORRY, PLEASE FORGIVE ME. THIS MOVIE IS *SO* GAY. I CODE ALL OF THE NAMES IN MY PHONE DIRECTORY, HERE’S BUNS OF STEEL, HE IS SO *HOT*.”
I have to admit the critics were right. This movie was confusing and baffling. Was Ray trying to seduce Kathy, or was it all a clever ploy to extort her fortune from her? Was the detective a murderer or merely a cynical alcoholic? The clues were mystifying. The disturbing images in the film jarred sharply with the dialog; parents calling home to make sure their kids hadn’t yet destroyed the house, teens calling their friends to find out what they were wearing to the party tomorrow night.
But wait, maybe it was me. What was I listening to? The movie or the audience? I wasn’t sure what was reality and what was fantasy anymore. What was dialog and what was conversation? What was real?
“HELLO, YES ITS ME, I’M AT THE MOVIE. YOU DID WHAT? CAN’T YOU TURN THAT DAMN THING DOWN, I CAN’T HEAR A WORD YOU’RE SAYING. THIS MOVIE SUCKS. MERYL STREEP IS MY FAVORITE ACTRESS. HE IS *SO* HOT. GIGGLE, GIGGLE, BURRRRRP!”
I couldn’t take it all in. I was in sensory overload. I put my hands over my ears to make it stop, but it wouldn’t go away. I put my hands over my eyes to block the green glow, but it leaked past my fingers. I wanted to get out, but I couldn’t. I was hemmed in on all sides by people loaded with extra-large tubs of buttered popcorn and giant sodas. The dim green glow on their faces made them hideous. They were all talking at once. The beep-beep and melodious tinkling of the cell-phones reached ear shattering levels. I couldn’t take anymore. But I could only sit there, starting at my green hands.
The movie reached its violent climax. For once, the theater became quiet, the people mesmerized by the compelling images. One cell-phone rang out above the movie’s crashing crescendo of music. I looked around, wondering who was going to answer it. Then I recognized the familiar ring tone. It was my own phone. I pulled it out of my pocket and it cast its own green glow on my face. I answered as the crucial final dialog played out on the screen.
“Hello. Yeah. I’m at the movie. What, have you tried letting it sit for a minute before you try starting it? You’ve probably flooded it…”
The woman next to me turned her green face to me and, shooting an evil glance my way, brought her hand up, her finger rising. In that time honored way, she chastised me for having the nerve to interrupt her enjoyment…
“Shhhhhhhhh!”
Others joined in. It seemed as if the entire audience was shushing me. I scrunched down in my seat. I said I’d call back and hung up.
But now the closing credits were on and the lights came up. People were rising, brushing the stray popcorn from their clothes, shuffling their feet on the sticky floor, checking their voice mail on the off chance that they might have missed the end of the world during their two hour sojourn into unreality. The fastest were already on their way to the bathrooms. The ushers were at the ready with their rolling trash cans and brooms and mops, making ready to hose it all down before the next show. The magic was over. It was time to return to the real world, the mundane, the unromantic, the un-heroic. I sighed. For once, I agreed with the critics. This movie really was a stinker.