I don’t go to many opening day screenings, and for several reasons: first of all, I hate crowds. Just hate ‘em. Second, I hate today’s movie crowds. Note the caveat: today’s movie crowds tend to talk all through the picture, telling their friends what to expect, commenting noisily on the action, or answering their cell phones. Because of this, I generally wait a week or so to see the film, which sometimes bites me on the ass, because the films I like to see don’t generally stay long at the multiplex, which is all we have here in Tuscaloosa.
Anyway, I have nevertheless seen a few flicks on opening day, and one was Star Wars (yes, it’s true: I’m old). On May 25, 1977 I walked into a theater in Spokane, Washington and paid some doubtless ridiculously low sum to see the first of George Lucas’ epics. I was on a date which — believe it or not, given my present studly image — was not a common occurrence in those days.
I’d expected to have to stand in line (reason three for not going on opening day), because I’d read the ecstatic review in Newsweek. But no: there was no line, and we just waltzed right in to the first showing of the evening. Guess the folks in Spokane weren’t great readers of news magazines. But as the movie unspooled, as the adventures of Luke and Leia and et al. unfolded, I remember a gradual hush coming over the audience. And although it was a different time, when people were more polite at the movies, there was very little jabbering, very little kibitzing as we all sat enthralled.
Looking back at that screening from a cinephilic advantage, I guess you might say I was on the ground floor on the day the movies changed, the day the movie that ushered in the modern blockbuster made it’s gorilla-sized impression. But at the time I didn’t think a thing of it, of course: I was just bowled over by something I felt I’d never seen before. And none of it’s sequels have had quite as much an effect.
A second opening day couldn’t have been more different. There Will Be Blood arrived in Tuscaloosa in early February of 2008, months after it opened, and long after the online and in-print arguments pitting it against No Country for Old Men had heated up. It was very strange: perhaps to fill column inches, or maybe theater seats, the two films were compared as if they were made to compete with one another. And as the Oscars approached, and — yes — both were nominated for best picture, there were tallies showing how many critics, who should have known better, preferred on or the other. For what it’s worth, No Country seems to have won out.
So anyway, there I was, at the opening performance — at something like 2:30 in the afternoon — of one of the greatest American films of the past decade, and nobody was there. I mean, virtually no one. There may have been a few hardy souls in the lower left, just outside my peripheral vision, but I couldn’t swear to it.
I sat in my preferred location — not too far forward, not too far back, and right in the middle — and as the first chords of Jonny Greenwood’s discordant score hit me, I became totally wrapped up in Daniel Plainview’s story. But it wasn’t like it was 30 years earlier, at the Spokane premiere of Star Wars. Then, it was a communal experience, a common absorption, if you will. We were in it together, discovering the marvelously new all at the same time. We oohed and ahhhed in unison, and at the end, we applauded all at the same time. And after it was all over, we walked out in the glow of having seen a great movie.
Not so with There Will Be Blood. That was a solitary experience, a private experience. I was wrapped in a dark cocoon, brooding about what I was seeing, much as Plainview did onscreen. And I didn’t move for the entire two-and-a-half hour running time, didn’t get up for a soda or the bathroom or anything. And when I came out, the dark mood continued on into the lobby, until it was broken by a friend who asked me what I’d seen. When I told her, she said “What’s that about?”
And I had no idea what to tell her.
[This is a couple of days late and more than a dollar short, and The Kid in the Front Row didn't exactly invite me, but I thought it was a cool idea and I did it anyway. So there.]
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Rick, thanks for that memory/comparison. It is a very different world today; the communal theatre experience is gone in most parts, although I’m sure there are still pockets of jazzed enthusiasts peacefully coexisting, if not nurturing one another, in specialty venues in Manhattan, San Francisco, maybe Chicago.
Star Wars was indeed “the day the movies changed,” when the screen began to wink back and elbow us in the ribs. I disliked Star Wars in 1977 — for one thing, I couldn’t follow the damn thing even though I was in my second year of college. It has failed to endear itself to me over the passing years. I made it through half of The Empire Strikes Back; I fell asleep out of boredom during Raiders of the Lost Ark.
But the film also marked the end of the mainstream’s passionate interest in mature drama. There was no more push for films like Chinatown, The Last Detail, Nashville or Shampoo. Yes, there was still adult drama, but not in force. The American mainstream has never returned to the level of excellence, enthusiasm and popularity it had in this genre thirty-five years ago.
It’s open for argument, naturally. But I prefer the era when I’d go to any given (single screen) theatre in suburbia and find it half- or three-quarters full on a weekday night (Fridays and Saturdays were usually SRO)… because home video didn’t exist, and one would try to absorb everything at once (visual, aural) as the chance was slim of ever seeing the picture again uncut. I’d rather be going to the movies three or four times a week as I did back then (when tickets were a couple of bucks) instead of “Netflixing” my addiction.
But, like those pudgy civilians glued to their personal screens and loungers in Wall-E, I’ve been sucked in by the corporation, with my HDTV and the Blu-ray and all the other shit to keep me secluded, part of that “solitary, private experience” you mention.
[...] Rick Olson’s latest post, always a must read, is “A Tale of Two Openings” at Coosa Creek Cinema: http://coosacreek.org/mambo/2009/12/05/a-tale-of-two-openings/ [...]
when the screen began to wink back and elbow us in the ribs.
Nice line, Ray. And you said a mouthful. I liked Star Wars well enough, but today I can see it for what it is. And I like the blockbusters as well, for me that’s not the problem. T problem for me is the effect they’ve had on Hollywood economics, how they’ve — perhaps not single-handedly — depauperized Hollywood offerings.
Like you, I came of movie-going age during the “New Hollwood” of the late-60s/early 70s. Altman, Penn, Polanski … Peckinpah, Scorsese, Nichols … I remember sitting in those half-empty theaters in my Seattle hometown, marveling at the meaty, subversive nature of those films. People bemoan the 60s as being a bust, but it produced a hell of a lot of fine, thoughtful films.
Although seeing movies on a Friday or Saturday night have proven to have those annoying patrons, I have had very little trouble on Saturday mornings. Thankfully, my local AMC theaters have started showing movies for just more than half price if you catch it before noon. It is rare that there is even close to half a full theater at that time and I usually prefer the small crowds. There are some occasions where I actually prefer it to be full though. If it is a movie that is able to make everyone’s jaw drop and hush up (possibly the occasional cheer) then it is a powerful movie. I remember experiencing that when seeing Cloverfield; even though some of the teenagers were annoying in the beginning, as soon as everyone was running for their lives on screen the crowd was completely engrossed.
Dave, Cloverfield was an engrossing movie, all right. Although I didn’t see it until on DVD.
And I love going to those early-bird matinees, it’s my standard operating procedure. I love paying a substantial discount, though it’s not half-price at my local.
When I saw Star Wars I had to wait in line for what seemed like hours. My brother and I and a couple friends went and unlike Ray we loved it. Of course in the intervening years it has soured on me and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see it again.
There Will be Blood was also a packed house at the AFI in Silver Spring when I saw it. All I can say to you and Ray and everyone really, as I’ve said before, is it is the best theatre in the country, to me at least. There is a HUGE multiplex with 20+ screens right around the block so the ONLY people that go to the AFI are film afficianados. My wife and I have seen silent films there (like The Crowd), foreign films (like The Earrings of Madame de…), old Hollywood quickies (like Carole Lombard’s White Woman) and new releases (like A Serious Man) and every time – EVERY TIME – the audience was perfect. No talking, no weird commentary, no disappointment at the lack of explosions or car chases, nothing. Seriously, if you want a good time at the movies again move to Silver Spring and take in all your movies at the AFI Silver. It’s phenomenal. I even got to meet Farley Granger when I saw Strangers on a Train there. I’ll put you guys up in my basement until you’re settled in.
Greg, Star Wars hasn’t exactly soured on me, but I can now put it into better perspective. And I’ll probably only watch it if a guest asks.
I would love to see Hitchcock and Ophuls and etc. on the big screen. When I was in the area early last summer, I just didn’t have time to go to the AFI. Maybe next time.
Hmm… Greg’s basement. May I bring my cats? I dunno… With all respect to Silver Springs, the next place we move to may be Rabbit Hash, Kentucky. The mayor of the town is a dog… no, I don’t mean some ugly broad. I mean a frikkin’ dog. They ain’t got no picture show, but once a month down at the Rabbit Hash General Store they show Laurel & Hardy movies on a bedsheet. That’s just about my speed these days.
I’ve punched so many patrons, I’ve been banned from several theatres.
I’ve never been an opening-day person (acutally, I’m usually a pre-opening day – even opening year – person because of all the films I see at festivals and special screenings at the Siskel Center), but I did see Master and Commander on opening night with a friend who likes to be the first kid on the block. It was just fine, no bad behavior.
Ray, it sounds like Tuscaloosa, where I live. Only difference is the Mayor is a human being, but his name’s Bubba. And that Laurel n’ Hardy fellow is a mite too risque for us … we’re partial to the immortal Clara Bow.
I actually knew somebody one time from Peel Jerk, Tennessee.
Marilyn, I saw Master and Commander in a small theater in a tiny town on the Oregon coast. It most certainly wasn’t just fine, or at least it wasn’t quiet: there were some kids down on the carpet in front of stage left, playing noisily with one of those toy lawnmowers that makes a motor sound.
When my wife and I saw FANTASTIC MR. FOX on Friday, there was not another soul in the theater. Granted, this was around noon on a weekday, but still, I was surprised. There’s almost always somebody there. The only other time I can remember being alone in a theater was when a friend and I saw THE SPANISH PRISONER at a theater that was on its last legs. At one point in the film, the frame went out of line, and I went out to complain. There was no one to tell. No one at concessions, in the ticket booth, anywhere. So I went back to the theater, and when the reel changed, the picture went back in line. When my friend and I left, it was still a ghost town. No employees anywhere. It was a little bit spooky, or it would have been if I didn’t assume that they were all out back smoking pot.
And there is only one, to my knowledge, arthouse theater in my area, and that’s where I saw A SERIOUS MAN. The audience was the worst I’ve experienced in years. Talking throughout, laughing inappropriately, and, I suspect, missing the point of the film entirely. How could they not, with all the talking they were doing?
Bill, it doesn’t happen around here very often, either, especially with something as well-hyped as Fantastic. And the audience was that bad at an arthouse theater? Maybe they were expecting another throwaway like “Burn After Reading” or something.
I didn’t know there was one in your neck of the woods, either. There is kind of one in Williamsburg, in the couple of blocks of street that are blocked off to form a pedestrian mall adjacent to Colonial Williamsburg. My daughter saw “Flight of the Red Balloon” there.
Great stories, Rick.
I think my problem is when popular opinion and my opinion collide. In other words, when I allow myself to watch what the plebeians watch. For the most part the arthouse and indie/foreign/doc films aren’t as busy when I see them (typically weekday evenings or weekend afternoons), but trouble comes when I want to see the blockbuster at the multiplex opening weekend (Avatar, shortly), or when advance word gets to the plebeians that they should check out some indie film (Precious, recently). Outside of those occasions, I can typically avoid the opening day crowds.
Those crazy plebes … I think I’m doomed to see Avatar opening weekend as well. Argghhh …