Film critic analyzes the experience of movie theaters
Gary Sundt - May 1st, 2008“A man goes to the movies. The critic must be honest enough to admit that he is that man.” — Robert Warshow, The Immediate Experience
As a film critic, I watch a lot of movies. I have a collection of about 300 movie tickets since Spider-Man came out in 2001. That’s approximately $2,550 spent for some 600 hours of movie watching in a theater. This doesn’t take into account my weekly DVD rentals and purchases, repeat viewings and reading on the subject of films. That’s a lot of time and money to spend on movies.
Know that most of the movies I watch are not especially good. Even less common are they great. This is a column about those good or great films, and the experience of watching them in the theater.
I am of the belief that movies are the greatest art form on the planet. Upon hearing this, many object. What about music? Photography? Writing? Performance Drama? Painting or sculpture? “How can one be better than the rest?” people ask.
My response to this is that movies, at any given moment, can incorporate one or all of these. Film is the best because it utilizes all the different types of art and evokes an emotion.
The movie theater, on the other hand, creates a very similar experience to the other art forms. Much like a rock concert or an art exhibit, people of all walks of life crowd into a specific space to view the latest work from their favorite actor, director or movie studio. Or maybe they don’t. Perhaps they don’t care what they’re watching, as long as it’s entertaining.
Regardless, the film begins. The lights go dim, and that’s when something amazing happens. This event cannot be mimicked at home by one’s self, or even with a group of friends. Movie houses packed with strangers are the sole provider of this experience.
In a comedy, we laugh. In horror, we scream. Drama pushes us to feel the plight of the characters, while science fiction will provide marvelous sights and ideas we couldn’t begin to fathom outside the Cineplex. Regardless of the genre, friends, family, enemies and strangers observe the same events, and similar feelings arise. Remember when Jurassic Park came out and everyone’s collective minds were blown by the power of visual effects? Yeah. It’s kinda like that.
The theater is full of many different people from all walks of life, watching the screen at varying levels of attention. And if a movie is made just right, this variable mishmash of photography, performance, music, writing, etc. will collectively evoke a similar emotion.
While this similar feeling arises, these emotions will be remarkably different. Perhaps we laugh, but everyone has a different reason for laughing. It isn’t because, as a friend of mine once said after 40-Year-Old Virgin, “It’s just funny.” Why is it funny? Every person will respond differently. That’s the magic of art.
So try to imagine this: people of every type, all in the same place, experiencing the same and entirely different emotions in a single moment. The stories on the screen are designed to do this, and will succeed if they are great. We moviegoers have the chance to travel to the theater and experience it.
Perhaps this is why we are irritated when some stupid person answers their phone, checks their voicemail, sends a text or talks loudly to their friends. We get mad because we have thrown down our hard earned dollars to experience these complex emotions. We’re entitled, dammit!
Notice that those guilty of such atrocities are often tweens and children. However, with our newfound knowledge of this intricate experience, we can somewhat understand why they tend to be so ignorant. Middle school kids and children often fail to understand mature emotion. We have every right to chastise, kick them out of our theater even. But at the same time, we, as well as them, should understand. They just aren’t there yet. They’ll get it someday.
Or perhaps they won’t. I see many different movies, some I want to see and many I don’t. I occasionally happen upon an adult guilty of the juvenile atrocities that drive loyal moviegoers up the wall.
I have, once or twice, done the equally obnoxious thing and approached these people after the show. One time a kid answered his cell phone in the climax (if you can call it that) of When a Stranger Calls. The whole movie had been pretty bad up to this point, and when something interesting was finally happening, a kid answers his phone. On a different occassion, a mother brought her 4- and 7-year-olds to The Devil’s Rejects, one of the most vicious and twisted film experiences I’ve ever had. Both occassions resulted in stict talking-to’s, simply because I was so outraged.
Their response (edited here) was simply that they didn’t care. As hard as this may be, I have to tell myself that some people just won’t ever get it. This may not stop me from yelling in their face, but it does stop me from attempting violent decapitation with my popcorn bag.
However, this ignorance represents another inherent beauty of films. Movies are made and priced for all walks of life. Unlike the latest concerts and plays, the price is fixed such that everyone has a right to experience these phenomenal emotions, even if they are too ignorant to properly understand. Perhaps it would be nice if those insufferable tweens would just throw their hormones a bone and start making out (at least they’d be quiet for once). Regardless, movies are for everyone, and that makes them special.
Film snobs will not agree. These are the guys that think everything after Citizen Kane is poppycock, and they would insist that most people don’t deserve the privilege of movies. Every art form has its snobs, and they all feel this way about their precious corner of the universe. I myself may border on film snobbery, but I maintain my humanity by insisting equal movie-watching rights. If you like Vantage Point or The Reaping, you have every right to watch it. If No Country for Old Men was a bit too complex for you, that’s cool too.
This moment of final judgment is where the movie ends. The lights come on, credits roll, and everyone piles out the theater. The experience of the movie theater is over, and we all walk out into our different worlds with our different opinions. Debates may rage, or a general consensus may be found. When I left Prom Night, a friend and I were stunned silent by how awful it was, while a stranger behind us said, “It was good but I was scared.” Once again, the beauty of art.
So this is my last movie column of the semester, and what have I said? Go to the movies, you crazy people. See that flick you’ve been waiting several months for, or go see something you’ve never heard of. The experience is yours and everyone else’s.
The lights dim. Showtime.