Venturing to the movie theatre, even with the modern-day capacity to download just about anything off of the internet, has, and always will be one of my favourite pastimes.
My last visit to the cinema, however, has left me with a taste so bitter that I see no other alternative but to voice such grievances.
Let me first describe the satisfaction I get out of watching the feature presentation on my own. Obviously it is nice to have a friend, mate, acquaintance, confidant or relative to go with, but I don’t understand people’s bewildered reaction upon telling them of my solo cinema adventures. You don’t have to quibble about which movie to see, nor are you forced to stand around like muppets at the front of the theatre while agonizingly consulting one another about the ideal seat for premium viewing pleasure.
I skipped up the stairs and picked my usual aisle seat – an unavoidable situation as my dodgy knee forever reserves veto power – in anticipation of Seven Psychopaths, which by the way, is a brilliantly written, innovative screen play that leaves you gagging for more.
Minutes later, as I systematically and robotically popped luscious Gummy Bears into my mouth, a bevy of hopped up, unruly teenage girls stormed into the peaceful sanctuary and, in doing so, spoiled the tranquil environment.
“Please don’t sit near me,” I mumbled to myself over and over again, hoping repeating the same statement would somehow absolve me of this problem.
No such luck. They sat directly behind me and proceeded to continually squawk like crows at the crack of dawn. Trying to ignore them was my first mistake. The tension brewed, creating a spitting stew of anger on the verge of boiling over.
I was compelled to make a stand: “I am not sure if you realise the movie has started, but I would understand, due to the incessant chirping going on, if you hadn’t. In any case, can you refrain from talking.”
None of the entourage, in the immediacy, retorted. Minutes passed before a member of the babbling bevy thought it permissible to converse, in Arabic, on her mobile phone. The conversation lasted about 30 seconds before my incandescent rage couldn’t be suppressed.
“Do you really, really think it is appropriate to have a chat during the feature presentation,” I bellowed, most likely coming off as an angry old prat.
She, to my surprise, apologised and put her phone where it belongs, in her pocket.
I finally allowed myself the satisfaction of enjoying the movie, my anger eventually subsiding. I thought the storm had blown over when I overheard on of the unruly teens quip, “at least we have friends, who comes to the movies alone?”
I found the comment extremely amusing, laughing out loud (LOL as the teeny boppers would say) for what it seemed like minutes while chewing, like a cow, on a the juiciest Gummy Bears one can imagine.
One of the characters on screen was being horrifically bludgeoned at the precise time I was laughing like a mad man. To my astonishment, an eerie hush fell over the crowd of teens. Inopportune timing one could say, but as I gazed to the row behind, the girls looked at me in horror, as if I was one of the Seven Psychopaths.
Still chewing uncontrollably, I turned my attention to the big screen, enjoying the rest of the film, alone and in silence.