At the Movies!

Even though it’s July, it’s starting to look like fall around here. With the lack of rain, leaves on the trees are starting to turn yellow and drop to the ground as the trees attempt to deal with the stress of not getting enough water. So I was looking forward to this past weekend, with its promises of a cold front, lower temperatures, and rain in the forecast. What our friendly weathermen forgot to tell us was that the temperature would drop to the frigid upper-80s with what feels like two hundred percent humidity. The air felt so think and heavy with moisture that which each breath you manage to take in forms drops of condensation on the inside surface of your lungs. Fortune, how you mock me so!

This past Friday my wife and I did something we haven’t done in a while—took our daughter to the movies. Other family members have been taking her to see movies of late, leaving mom and dad out of the equation. So rather than continue to be one-upped by others we decided it was time that we head out as a family to go see a movie. On this particular evening we took the child to see Monster House, a computer animated film about three kids and a house possessed by the spirit of a dead woman. The animation was pretty good, especially in those scenes where the house came to life—but nothing of the caliber that PDI/Dreamworks has produced (I know one or two people at PDI have been reading this, so like any good politician I must kiss-up to that segment of my core constituency). A cute movie that my daughter enjoyed, even if it did scare the hell out of her late in the film, causing her to lean over to me and plead to go home. Sorry kid, we’ve bought the ticket and you’re here for the duration. I knew exactly what she was experiencing, though. Way back in 1973 while on a family vacation, my dad took us to see The Poseidon Adventure. As embarassed as I am to say it, the movie scared the living bejesus out of me back then. And who wouldn't be frightened by the sight of Shelley Winters in a soaking wet dress?

But I came away with two observations after watching Monster House. First, for all the digital animation and mastering, it’s all wasted until better projection systems come along. I spent most of the movie wondering if the image distortion was a factor of the screen’s texture or of the projector. The picture seemed out of focus most of the time. Some of the movies that I have seen in the theater look so much better being played on my DVD player connected to the s-video jack on my flatscreen television; Finding Nemo, with all the underwater scenes on the coral reef, looks really, really good and was the DVD that convinced my wife that our television was a good purchase. My second observation, or more like an opinion, was a lingering question as to why Monster House was released now, at the end of July. The film is set at Halloween and would be more appropriate for a fall release. The only conclusion that I came to was that Sony released the movie now hoping to rope in some summer money and come mid-October would release the film on DVD, where your typical movie makes most of its money these days.

I have to admit that I’m not a big fan of the whole movie going experience. For roughly the same price as the tickets you can buy the DVD, take it home, crank up the theater system, and enjoy a movie on the comfort of your own couch as often as you’d like. Not to mention that you don’t have to use a public restroom with people who will never, ever become deer hunters. If you can’t hit a urinal from a range of less than a foot, there’s no way in hell you’ll shoot a deer from seventy-five yards. Another advantage of the DVD is that you can skip the previews and go straight to the movie. Not so in the theater. The movie last Friday was supposed to start at 5:30, but thanks to the previews the opening credits didn’t start rolling until 5:46. At one point I was ready to turn in my seat and yell, “Enough with the f*cking previews already!! Run the goddamn film!” There weren’t that many people in the theater so I’m sure they would’ve heard me, but with children present I opted not to voice my opinion. Besides, the absolute last thing I need was for my daughter to go to her summer camp and yell the same thing on those days they watch a movie.

Also, when watching a DVD at home you don’t have to pay $3 for a bottle of water, or $3.50 for anemically small box of popcorn. Consider that for the same $3 you can pick up a 12 pack of Cokes, or for a couple of dollars you can get an 8 pack box of Act II’s movie lovers butter flavored popcorn and eat two packs in less time than it takes for a theater to run the damned previews! Granted, walking into the theater and being greeted with the smell of popcorn is nice, but when you’re taking a child to the movies, the snack bar beckons them like a siren call sending H.M.S. Debit Card careening onto the rocks in a disaster only Irwin Allen could appreciate.

Once Monster House was over, we left the theater and headed off to find some dinner. We stopped someplace nearby, a place that’s usually on our b-list of restaurants but we were hungry and I needed a reminder as to why it’s on our b-list, considering coming to this place was my idea. The reminder wasn’t long in coming, to be certain. We were seated and hadn’t been there long when I began to pick up on the conversation of the group of people at the next table. They had their child with them, and she couldn’t have been more than a year old. The mom started talking about her daughter’s fascination with her own feet, which rapidly took an unfortunate left turn and the discussion began covering the dad’s feet and how his toe nails needed to be trimmed.

Ugh! I thought to myself, “What the hell is this?” They were talking about feet in a restaurant. If this was considered an appropriate topic in public I can only imagine what passes for conversation in the dim glow of the forty watt bulb over their dinner table at home. It’s probably a safe guess that the specter of wife swapping has come up over many a loose meat sandwich dinner in that household. Throwing in her two cents worth into the conversation, the mom chimes in that she can pick up things with her feet. WOW! You’ve got some talented toes there lady. Wanna pick up my dinner check while you’re at it? I cursed myself for not listening to more loud, devil-worshipping rock n’ roll music in my youth, which would have the pleasurable effect of deafening me to this conversation. Not to be outdone, it was about that time the lady in the couple sitting behind me decides it’s time to hack up a lung, and starts emitting a cough that sounded a lot like a death rattle. You could almost see the tuberculosis in the air, and it smelt a little like motor oil. Nice.

Next time I’m skipping the theater and buying the damn DVD.