A peaceful Sunday. That is all I want. I go to a movie theater in the suburb to see a comedy or even a comic book movie to take my mind off my troubles. I often see a film and haven’t the foggiest idea what I have just seen. Mostly I allow my thoughts in my head to be projected on the large screen in front of me, and I don’t even wish to dwell on what those thoughts mean or represent. Most movie theaters these days only process digital images than film. As of last March, 38,719 screens (out of 39,789 screens) in the United States have been converted to digital. So in truth, am I even seeing a film? Or a reproduction of a film? Or should the credits now say “A Digital Production by Judd Apatow? ”
The beauty of modern theaters is how they convey the feeling that you’re in the first-class compartment of an airplane. The seating is very comfortable, and one can even push back to recline and place your head facing the screen upwards. A holder for your drink, and plenty of room on the armrest on each side of the chair to put your elbow or arm. It is also pleasant to be in a darkened theater to see the projection of the latest digital release.
The one thing that does bother me is the customer that comes in and seems nervous. I have always felt that was me, in a sense, that I come to a movie with thoughts or problems, and the purpose of my being here is to leave my troubles outside the theater for at least a couple of hours. But I can feel that customer’s irritation or oddness, which destroys the experience of seeing a movie in a theater. I should contact an employee of the theater to let them know that a customer was giving out bad vibes, and therefore I’m not experiencing the enjoyment as fully as I should be entitled to.
He keeps changing seats. First, he is sitting in my row, and I’m in the middle of the theater. He then moves in front of me and idiotically sits in front of me. He has a role of seats he can sit in. Yet he chooses the center right in front of me. I moved a few chairs down, and when the coming attractions come on, I tend to watch him than watch what is on the screen. Now I notice he has an object in his hand, and it seems he is looking at the object instead of the digital projection. It isn’t a cell phone. What is it?
He puts it back in his pocket. The film is starting. The dialogue is funny. Yet he doesn’t laugh or look like he is paying any attention to the film. Once in a while, I see him glancing at me from time to time. I ensure I don’t capture his eyes when he does so. I sometimes wished the cinema was blacked out, except for the screen. At first, the idea of being in a cinema was to be part of the audience. But I’m at the cinema because of the screen size and the fact that one can lose themselves to the images in front of them, as well as being surrounded by the digital projection’s Dolby sound.
The disturbing aspect of this environment is the customer mouthing off to the screen, but I can’t fully hear him due to the volume of the movie being so loud. I wonder if he feels he’s being pulled into the movie's narrative or is he living in his narrative with its unique soundtrack? The weather is so hot today, and I want to lose myself in an air-conditioned theater, yet I can’t focus on my comfort because this guy is making me uncomfortable. If I were an ordinary guy, I would go up and tell him to shut up or please leave the theater, but I’m fearful of approaching a stranger. When you are part of the audience, one hopes that we are all on the same wavelength - yet clearly, this ‘gentleman’ is on another planet.
If I close my eyes, all of this will go away. My thoughts are projected on my eyelids. I see abstraction from the lights bouncing around the screen. I find this to be the perfect cinema. Not digital, but human. No one exists except me. I, alone. Finally.