Posts Tagged ‘film’

blockbuster

I believe I’m going through a transformative phase. Not anything as remarkable as becoming the best me or whatever a self-help book teaches you. No, my transformation has been more of the back in my day variety. With a touch of get off of my lawn.

Prostetlizing long forgotten scenarios from the past has quickly become a favorite pastime. And each scenario should inevitably blow youngsters minds when I tell it to them. Note: It doesn’t

Even so, they’re immensely satisfying to tell. My scratch to youth’s itch.

I’ve become the dad you say hi to, and then quickly avoid at your friend’s house. The dad who ends up driving you somewhere. And then you’re trapped, as I begin regaling you with tales from long ago. Perhaps you cringe. Perhaps you curse at your friend under your breath. All the while, you scan the world outside for a soft spot to land. Because I will continue talking. And you will inevitably throw open the door and jump from the car. Because I won’t stop.

You see, I need to explain things to you. Because you’re a kid. And I know everything, because I’m a dad. I even have my dad degree. Note: It involved having sex with a lady. Note 2: That’s how babies are made.

And that brings us to Blockbuster video. My version of I walked ten miles to school.

It began with my kids complaining. Also, this is where all parental-rants are born.

They huffed and mumbled in unison about nothing good being on Netflix. I ignored it at first. Then one of them said “Netflix is the worst! There’s never anything on!”

They didn’t realize it then, but a line had been drawn in the sand. I wasn’t about to let any offspring of mine whine in such a manner. And besmirching the good name of Netflix in the process? Unacceptable.

Like in a comic book movie, right before the superhero does something real cool, I took a breath, arched my eyebrow, and nodded to the lady in the room. My wiiiife. Note: That’s meant to be read in a Borat voice.

And then I began. It went something like this:

ME: This is nothing. When I was your age, I would go to blockbuster video! You know of blockbuster video?

MY KIDS: No.

ME: That’s right! You don’t. I would go there, and there would be one video I wanted to rent. ONE. And I would scurry over to it on the shelf, but all of the copies were GONE. Just an empty dvd cover. And you know what happened then? Huh?! I didn’t get to watch it. That’s what. I had to come back another day. And go through it all again. I had to work for my entertainment, damn it!

It was glorious. I had put them in their place. I was a chef. And food for thought was my specialty. But they were gone. Slipped out during the apex of my grand rant.

They say that youth is wasted on the young. Well it wouldn’t be if they listened to what I had to say.

Oh, side note, Happy New Year, errbody!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have to dredge up a lingering issue. One that really chaps my hide (god, I love that phrase). Recently, against my better judgment, I begrudgingly settled on the Studio Movie Grill, for a family outing. It’s one of those all-in-one theater chains that thinks combining drinks, dinner, and a movie, is the ULTIMATE MOVIE GOING EXPERIENCE.

Which is kind of like calling an anal fissure EDGE OF YOUR SEAT EXCITEMENT.

The corporate mission statement behind these abominations, is much like a slogan from McDonalds or Burger King. Super-size it! Make it a combo! And don’t forget to add a McNugget Flurry for only twenty-five cents more! 

See, this is how it works: You take a movie, and then you add an overpriced, frozen dinner, and a lot of terrible drinks, and you wrap that all up into a burrito of poor decision-making, and then you shove it in your face-hole. Where stuff goes. And please remember to reserve your seats ahead of time, online. Because there’s always an online component, when you’re destroying something beautiful.

At a glance, like most successful sales pitches, it sounds like a good idea. “Hey, we can get a drink at the theater, then we can eat our meal while watching the movie! Oh, and there’s a red button we can press on our tables! Wooooo!”

This sort of logic might seem sound, if you have a babysitter watching the kids, and you have exactly two hours to spare. Fine, crowbar it all in. 

But for those of us lucky enough to have a night out, and a desire to watch a movie and share a meal, this is the worst possible option. It’s like a candlelit dinner at White Castle. Except there’s a possibility of more diarrhea and less ambiance.

Problem #1: You have a drink or two at the bar beforehand, while you wait to be seated. Great, now you’re slightly buzzed going in. One soggy quesadilla later, and let’s face it, you’re not exactly on your A-game. So yeah, enjoy that movie you’ve either misinterpreted, talked over, or fallen asleep to.

I’ve been trapped next to two drunken middle-aged housewives, complaining that they didn’t “get it” between wet slurps of margaritas and whispered conversations with the waiter. Of course they didn’t get it. They were doing everything but watching the god-damn movie. And it was fucking Jurassic World, not Truffaut.

Problem #2: You’re dealing with waiters in the middle of the movie. They’re scrambling around like ball boys at the French Open, and someone in your group is inevitably going to ask “Should we get another bucket?”  No. You should get a gun and put it in your mouth. Because art is dead.

Problem #3: The food is awful. It’s microwaved soylent green. And we swallow it down like the gluttonous, indecisive children we are. God forbid we hold off on saturated fats for a couple of hours, and choose where we’re going to eat. No, that would be too great of a decision to make. Instead, let’s ruin a movie along with our night. Whatever it takes. Just feed us your soggy quesadillas, and turn up the background noise. This is a decision-free zone.

These places fail miserably in everything they set out to do. They’re a failure as a movie theater. Your experience will undoubtedly be compromised by the wait staff, by your own buzz, and by the people on either side of you (who are either continuously pressing shiny red buttons, or devouring unholy quesadillas between wet burps).

Let’s face it, if one of these places was just a restaurant and bar, it would be a Planet Hollywood without all of the accoutrements.

Movie theaters with a bit of history and a varied movie selection, are getting harder to find. While in their stead, we’re being offered something we don’t need or want. And yet, somehow, we’re still being coerced into thinking that this is our preferred method of movie-going.

And it’s too easy. And they know that. And we like easy.

Enough is enough! So, um, I guess this is the part where I stand up and quote something… and that something is one of the greatest American songs to ever grace a film: “There’s no easy way out. There’s no shortcut home.”  *koff* Rocky 4 *koff*

It comes down to this, dinner and a movie has been co-opted by corporate assholery. We are being sold an inferior alternative. An alternative that cuts out a vital part of this shared, cultural experience. It cuts out the part where you choose for yourself. The part where you walk out of a theater and say “Hey let’s grab a bite to eat, or a drink, and talk about whatever it was we just saw.”  And I fucking love that part.

I guess it’s our own damn fault. We’ve allowed this to happen. We’ve went along with the program, and in doing so, we’ve betrayed a piece of our cultural identity for the first shiny, new thing that came along. 

And with less and less real movie theaters left, this inferior alternative is quickly becoming the only game in town.