Observations From A Movie Theater (And A Brief, Spoiler-Free Inception Review)
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Last night, went to see Inception.
To me, the movie theater has always been a temple.
But they have brought prostitutes to the temple. Barn animals, too. Even clowns.
Perhaps even barn clown prostitutes.
The temple has been desecrated.
I Am Now Unable To Get A Mortgage
Our bank called in the middle of the movie last night. The mortgage broker said, “We see a transaction here that you’re at a… *rustling of papers* movie theater?” I told him yes. “Then I’m afraid you can no longer afford your mortgage payment. This is also a sign of deep, deep fiscal irresponsibility.” Then he told me to enjoy the film, and the mortgage broker hung up.
I bought the tickets. For two people it was $22.00. Better that it wasn’t a 3D movie, or the price would’ve been $32, instead.
You know how much my Netflix subscription costs?
A mere $16.99. For the whole month.
When I was in LA, we went to the Arclight, and it cost an arm and a leg and a sliver of my actual brain, but you know what they have there? Ninja ushers protecting your theater-going experience with a shuriken in the eye for any who would dare talk during the film or answer a phone. And they have eunuch projectionists, trained for years in the art of showing movies (and ever-untainted by petty, rotten sexual urges). And best of all, the Arclight provides only assigned seating. First come, first serve, pick your seats, enjoy the meticulously prepared theater experience.
In Los Angeles, it seems that the temple is still intact.
In the Lehigh Valley, in Pennsyltucky, not so much.
It Looks Like Tron Had The Trots In Here
This theater, the Rave Promenade, is in general a very nice theater. Or it was, once. The bathrooms were always an assault on the eyes — walls and fixtures of the brightest neon, as if the bricks were lit by LEDs and burning souls from within — but they were always clean, too. Not so much last night.
It looked and smelled like a pack of giraffes had come through there and peed on everything. It smelled musky, like the urinary waste of an ermine. And it was humid. Like a jungle cloaked in a yellow fog.
The urinals were taken, so I hit the toilet.
Someone there had done a hover-job: hovered above the seat while manufacturing explosive diarrhea all over the aforementioned seat.
Note To Hover Diarrhea Man: see a doctor. Your waste looked like gritty coffee water. You probably have some kind of intestinal bleeding. Possibly a tropical parasite. Your kidneys need replacing. Stat.
This Zagnut Bar Better Double Up As A Flotation Device
Your movie theater concession prices can go eat a dick and die. I will not pay one billion dollars for a bottle of water. I will not buy a popcorn tub as big as a tugboat, and I will not tithe my blood to taste the chemical butter and styrofoam crunch. I will instead go to the Fresh Market before hand and I will buy chocolate-covered pretzels and sneak them in. Along with the filled-up reusable water bottle I bought from home.
So fuck off.
Fuckers.
Meet Mister Greasy Elbows
Whilst I was in the giraffe paddock known as “the bathroom,” some yuppie leather-fleshed father brought his clan of eight or nine people (including teen children and their significant others) and wanted to sit exactly where my wife and I were sitting. We tend to choose the precise middle of theater. The man asked my wife, “Hey, can you move over one?” Because, you know, he and his cult have to all sit in a goddamn row. Like fishy brislings. Which is conducive for nothing — his daughter can still give her boyfriend that handjob inside that tub of popcorn. My wife, always a nice person, tells him “Sure.”
This man is now my enemy.
He remained my enemy for the duration of the film.
I had my arm on the armrest, and he’d occasionally eat candy (obnoxiously licking his fingers like some kind of drunken squirrel), and his elbow — sweaty, greasy — would rub up against my own. His attempted domination of the armrest was never assertive; his message never clear. He’d leave off for a time, and then when I reclaimed space, would eventually elbow me again — gently, a meager swipe lubricated by his foul arm grease — or he’d rub his forearm against my own.
I was tempted to say to him loudly so that his yuppie-spawn family could hear:
“Sir, this is not a men’s airport bathroom. This will not initiate sexual conduct, and I am now certain that you are a socially conservative Republican looking for cheap man-on-man thrills.”
Except then he finally stopped and went to sleep. Every fifteen minutes. Not so much snoring as mouth-breathing like some greasy-elbowed muffinhead. His wife, the judicious one, would wake him by reaching across his chest and taking the soda from the armrest on his far side.
Mister Greasy Elbows, you are an entire jar of used douche.
We will meet again.
My Ears Are Wet And I Wonder Why… Oh! Oh. It’s Just Blood.
The sound, especially during promos, is skull-shatteringly loud. It’s like a chorus of crickets have formed a metal band and crawled deep into my ear, using my eardrum as a goddamn subwoofer.
I have explained this to the people at the theater, including the manager, and their excuse is, “This is the sound level requested by the studio for optimal experience.”
Optimal experience is apparently code for “ear death.”
Can they change it? Technically, yes, but somehow it’s bad form. The theater cares more about what the distributors and studios want more than they care about the needs of the ear-squirting human blood-sprinklers populating their audience.
I’m forced then to wonder: what about the damaged hearing of children? (Many of whom are probably in the R-Rated movies, because any time we go see an R-Rated film it is overwhelmed by children — or, rather, lazy shitbasket parents who don’t want to pay a babysitter and who figure District 9 won’t scar their five-year-old son, Booboo. Hey! Father-of-the-year! You should be shot in the balls.) Nah, hell with those kids. If Toy Story 3 ruins their hearing, it’s not because it’s too loud, it’s because it’s so awesome. Their deafness is a prize. A trophy, even! Cherish your ruined eardrums, kids.
The wife and I, we’re like old people. We bring earplugs.
Thing is, nobody else seems to care.
Nobody else appears to believe the sound is too loud. Just me and the wife. We old fogeys.
I’m half-deaf in my left ear already, and still the sound bores to the center of my brain like an earwig with a battering ram. And yet, curiously, while the explosions are super-crazy brain-melting loud, all the dialogue is muddy and mumbled, as if spoken through a bucket of quivering tofu.
The Muddiness Continues
The projection is dim, gray, occasionally unclear. It is as if someone borrowed the coffee-speckled diarrhea from the bathroom and dripped it over the film projector. The commercials for the film show that it is gray, but bright, and certainly clear. This is not. This is damaged kidney water. This is a rainy day. This is not the ideal projection, digital as it may be. The temple is sullied.
Someone pooped on the altar, called it “a sacrifice.”
Inception
…Is thankfully an awesome movie. There. That’s my Inception review, right there: “Inception is awesome.” You want more? Fine, fine. Pshh. Here goes.
Inception is brainy and brawny. It is the jeweled crown atop the pile of festering effluence that has so far been the Summer Movie Crapstravaganza.
It doesn’t even deserve to be with those other movies. It is densely layered, like the finest baklava.
It is Lionel Richie’s “Dancing on the Ceiling” video, except on lots of acid.
You will have to pay attention.
The plot is precise.
The characters, not so much. The ensemble cast is given little motivation or meaning, and they are there more as tools: necessary drivers of plot, but not much more. Cobb (DiCaprio) and his wife are given full-bore character treatment, though, as are a few others (the mark, and the mighty Ken Watanabe). The first thing you always want to make clear with characters is, what do they want?
That is not established so cleanly here. And it is not a factor of the ensemble: Dark Knight was capable of making all its characters ring crisp and clear like the pealing of a bell.
Further, the very end, which I shall not spoil, is equal parts “clever” and “a cheat.”
Despite these misgivings, it is a most excellent movie. It will hopefully do well, as this film is — as I understand it — something of a referendum for the summer. If an original film that is not a remake, interpretation, or sequel (and likely will never have a sequel) can make boatloads of money, then it is perhaps time for Hollywood to stand up at the hole like an aroused marmot and say “Enough!” to all the derivative fol-de-rol.
Of course, this is likely bullshit, given that one of the biggest successes last year was District 9, another original — and one made fairly cheaply. And still nobody pays attention.
Yet. If Inception tanks (doesn’t look to be the case; the word-of-mouth is strong with this one), we’ll be seeing a remake of the remake of the remake of A-Team in no time.
Conclusion
I spend too much money to go to the theater for what is ultimately a mediocre experience. My home viewing experience is infinitely better (and I can bring my dogs).
Also: people suck, and the movie theater is filled with them. They’re like roaches. They’re everywhere. My home viewing experience is refreshingly absent of sucky human beings.
Also: Inception is good, go see it.
The end.
About The Author
ChuckWendig
Chuck Wendig is a novelist, a screenwriter, and a freelance penmonkey. He's written too much. He should probably stop. Give him a wide berth, as he might be drunk and untrustworthy. He currently lives in the wilds of Pennsyltucky with a wonderful wife and two very stupid dogs. He is represented by Stacia Decker of the Donald Maass Literary Agency.
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21 Responses and Counting...
We went to see this last night too. You could have been describing the “theater” we were sitting in as well. The bathroom was SO BRIGHT it was like I’d had my eyes dialated and they were letting in TOO MUCH light. WTF is that about ??? It was also SO LOUD I thought my ears were going to bleed. It literally caused the “theater” to shake at times. We left and my husband said he was pretty sure he sustained hearing damage.
OH and we got there 25 minutes early and claimed our seats. Right in the middle too. Space between us and the next people. Space beside me and the aisle – I put my purse there. Trailers start. “Theater” is dark. Two people walk up. The guy leans in and says, ” Can you move down one seat please?” I literally turned around and looked UP the theater and down because there were STILL SEATS everywhere (this was a BIG theater) and then, slowly, said “uh, ya, sure.” So he and his wife sit down and he proceeded to not only TAKE my arm rest…but eat fucking CHILI dude.
CHILI
What the fuck? And it was the FOULEST smelling, overcooked, greasiest, NASTIEST stuff on the planet. WHO GOES TO THE MOVIE AND BUYS AND EATS CHILI? We are Oklahoma – it IS hotter than the foyer in HELL outside and this douche gets movie “theater” chili????????????????????????
*shudder*
The smell is still in my hair.
I also thought the movie was good. I really liked it. The ol ambiguous ending….loved it. The hubby talked about it all the way home last night. And yes – you must pay attention – close attention or be lost inside the M.C. Escher painting brought to life.
You’re more steadfast than I am, I think.
Honestly. The experience that was Iron Man 2? I really don’t think I’m going back.
People suck. Too loud. Lights up too bright during the film for “safety” reasons?
Fuck it all. My DVD player works just fine. And yes, the food here is cheaper.
I don’t know which theater you go to…but please tell me so I can avoid it like moldy grilled cheese sandwich.
I didn’t have high hopes for Inception. I tend to hate Leo DiCaprio until I watch something with him in it. After that I think he’s awesome for about fifteen minutes and then go back to hating him. It’s been close to 48 hours since I saw Inception, though, and I still like him. For now. Fucker.
While I agree that this summer has seen it’s share of junk, I would argue that the A-Team adaptation wasn’t at all bad and, in fact, was rather fun. I’m a sucker for my 80’s nostalgia. Toy Story 3 was also fantastic. I guess that my two reviews here just reinforce the fact that adaptations, remakes, and sequels are running amok. It’s refreshing as hell to see an original film and truly enjoy every aspect of it.
As far as your mortgage woes go, my Grandfather Rocco may be able to help you if no one else will lend to you. I wouldn’t suggest being late on the payments, though.
@Paul
Is that a drunken squirrel drinking a beer?
Oh. My. Gawd. Thank you.
I want to see Inception so bad. SO BAD. And I want to do it in a theater. I want to support good filmmaking, and that means enduring some of the phenomenal bullshit that goes on.
But money is the biggest factor. And we don’t have much right now. So… yeah.
You have nailed the theater experience. We pretty much just go to the dollar theater now. And still bring in our own stuff. Unless it is something we REALLY want to see. But that isn’t too often anymore. Inception does look awesome.
@Julie: Yes. He’s also smoking. Here’s a little larger version and an alternate. Enjoy.
http://www.logan-web.com/danotar2.jpg
http://www.logan-web.com/sqrl.jpg
You just explained why I go to the theater once a year, if even. I can still recall going to see one of the Resident Evil movies and having stanky old lady feet thrust in my face. I remember going to The Last Samurai and sitting next to screaming Japanese children but their dip shit parents refusing to take them out of the theater because the movie was “an important cultural experience”. You know, to see guys hack each other apart. Right.
Though we did go see the awful Silent HIll movie back when and agreed with the guy snoring three rows up. That’s was pretty entertaining.
But nevertheless, the movie has to have me chomping at the bit, frothing at the mouth, and other x-ing at the y to actually endure the movie going experience.
I’m pretty sure I wrote this article. I must’ve dictated it verbatim via telepathic waves.
Question: Why the fuck would you spend a months earnings on tickets and concessions to come to the movie, AND THEN SPEND THE ENTIRE TIME TALKING, TEXTING, SLOBBERING, CRUNCHING, ELBOWING, COMING, GOING ETC…?????
I’ll hold a river of piss back to reclaim my $8000 in entertainment. I have never been closer to murder than the time I went to see Dark Knight on opening day.
Now, if I must go to the movies, I go on sunday morning. Designated old person time…
Sneaking in food is against the law, sir. Super against the law. You should be fined and shot for your sacriledge!
………
I find it’s easier to do in winter time when you are wearing your coat. It’s harder to do so in summer because the things I can eat don’t fit well in pockets.
Note how I said “Things I Can Eat.” I have diverticulitis, or as it’s sometimes known, Spoiled Westerners Stomach Pains. (I’m aware of the mockery I’m putting myself through.) I don’t like eating sweet things because I’m more of a savory sort of person and popcorn is the death of me. POPCORN IS THE DEATH OF ME. I actually like popcorn despite the fact it is terrible for you but since developing diverticulitis popcorn, quite literally, can be the death of me due to the kernels. The small pieces of shrapnel stalk my intestines and cause the worst stomach pain and can lead to nasty infections.
Theaters claim they offer suitable alternatives to popcorn but what is it really? 6 dollar dime store nachos with cheese served in tubs? Pretzels that taste like cardboard and since I worked at a movie theater I know how they are made? (Here’s a hint: The metal table they’re placed on is cleaned ONCE a night, and gets covered in sneezes, coughs, and other things throughout the day.)
What do I sneak in? Kettel chips. Pretzels. If I feel like something sweet, I’ll buy Skittles in the lobby but more often than not my teeth feel cruddy and I get so hyper from them I’m peeing every ten minutes during the movie.
To be fair to the theater I buy a large soda. Usually I drink the soda then eat the metric fuckton of ice they put in there so I can at least enjoy something cold in the theater.
Man, my mom and you are on the same wavelength. The only time I remember seeing a movie with her in a theater was the Lion King, and that’s only because Dad wasn’t there to take me. It was her personal sacrifice for her son, is what I’m saying.
She hates the movies. She loves movies, but she hates going to theaters. To her, they smell of popcorn, unwashed people and grime. I’m a boy, so it never bothers me until it starts leaking into open wounds.
My local movie theatre, some manager actually had the balls to put up a sign, “No outside food or drink, FOR YOUR SAFETY”
“I am now certain that you are a socially conservative Republican looking for cheap man-on-man thrills.”
Ha! You’re a genius sir.”
I see you have discovered why I love going to the movies at noon.
The Wife and I had planned on going to the movies last night to see either Inception or Despicable Me. It was only our second night out alone in over two years (read – since the baby was born). We stopped into a local brewery for a pint before showtime and as we drank we started talking about all of those things you mentioned above. All of the “fun” we could have at the movies. Our bar stools were comfy and despite the size of the crowd at the bar everyone seemed to be respecting the boundaries of everyone else. A few beers and a movie turned into a few beers and a few more beers and a wonderfully romantic walk around Providence. I’m sure that we won’t get another opportunity to see a movie before Inception leaves the theaters but that’s no biggie for us. Why would we want to spend the few hours we have alone in the dark and quiet am I right?
Just FYI, the numbers just got tallied and “inception” is poised to break the 60 million mark for its opening weekend. That’s very good news.
Leo is a character I would play in a game. if we ever game together, you are warned.
I can’t remember the last movie I saw in a theater. Most movies are awful to begin with, and it costs us a hundred bucks for a night at the movies, counting the babysitter and no refreshments. A hundred bucks to see some fucking superhero movie or an awful-but-sneeringly-ironic remake? No thank you. I’ll take the night in the concentration camp instead.
But I do want to see Inception.
LOL! We went to a movie theater like that once in Brisbane, Australia. We heard it was reasonably priced but the seats were so awkward that they left you in pain after a couple days, and the “screen” looked more like someone borrowed his auntie’s bedsheets…
I want a new plasma TV.
I want to see inception too
[...] the Spirit Shards of Charon. Good memories, good memories indeed.In Other News…Chuck Wendig has a good point about movie theaters. Movie theaters sound like the place where you can go spend an evening watching a movie on an [...]
“Like Tron had the Trots”
“as big as a tugboat”
“coffee water”
I haven’t seen Inception yet, so I can’t comment on that. I have read your post and laughed my spleen out.
You should have a tagline like the Hulk, “Don’t make me angry; I’m funny when I’m angry.”
Not as grim, just as true.
K
Although we have the highest ticket prices in The Nation, one benefit of seeing movies in NYC theaters is that you are usually surrounded by respectful adults. You’ve got to choose your theater carefully, mind you, but there’s a better than average chance that you will not encounter any of the problems you describe. Except maybe the sonic assault. If any of the horrors you catalogued do appear, New Yorkers are not shy about telling someone to firmly shut the fuck up. When that does happen, the vile offender can sense the collective animosity in the room and complies without delay. I saw “Inception” on the UWS on Friday and, as per usual, the crowd was appropriately silent, unless it had legitimate call to be otherwise, i.e. an appropriate “ooh” or “aah”.