As an opinionated cinephile, Roger Ebert has every right to dislike 3-D movies. And recently, on his blog, Roger Ebert's Journal, he wrote about such disfavor. Basically, in response to accidentally missing the press screening for the new animated 3-D flick Fly Me to the Moon, he admits that, because of a certain prejudice against the format, he likely wouldn't have enjoyed the movie anyway.
My issue here is not to attack Ebert's opinion or his belief that after half a century of dissatisfaction with the format he's never going to change his mind about it. He's free to express both. And while I disagree and am disappointed, I would never claim that Ebert doesn't know what he's talking about. He's certainly smarter about film than I'll ever be, and his opinions are far more respected than my own.
However, Ebert is also one of the most widely read film critics in the world, and therefore he is a pretty influential person when it comes to the subject of movies. And I would hate for moviegoers to dismiss the new wave of 3-D movies simply because of Ebert's stance on the format. So, I merely intend to respond to his opinion with an opinion of my own, as apparently one of the wider read gushers on the topic of digital 3-D.
Week after week, I focus on the good and/or bad concerning moviegoing and the movie theatre industry. But as passionate as I am about the subjects of this column, I've never really felt strongly enough to label any one person either a hero or a villain to moviegoers. Perhaps the closest I've come to calling someone a hero was when I finally had my first experience with an Alamo Drafthouse cinema. On the other hand, I've certainly wanted to call a lot of people villains, including whoever was responsible for my worst moviegoing experience in years and whoever came up with the awful idea to produce scented pre-show ads.
So, it was by some sort of coincidence that last week actually brought news of both a remarkably heroic moviegoer and a terribly villainous theatre owner. Of course, you're welcome to disagree with me as I celebrate the former and castigate the latter. The interesting thing about these two individuals is that some of you may see my hero as a villain, and vice versa. In fact the law has deemed the former a criminal, and meanwhile tons of moviegoers in the UK are championing the actions of the latter. No wonder film exhibition is in such dire straits when there's such disagreement about how to improve the moviegoing experience.
Moviegoing seems to be living in the past these days, as both 3-D and large format projection have become attractions at mainstream cinemas again, just as they were half a century ago. Of course, there are updated differences -- the new 3-D is digital and now employs glasses that don't give us headaches, and the large format presentation, IMAX (which is actually almost 40 years old and is technically not really similar at all to the Cinemascope, Cinerama, VistaVision, etc., which were used in the 1950s), is finally separating itself from its usual museum-set association to move into more multiplexes and offer more blockbusters, like the popcorns and sodas, appropriately super-sized.
So where is the return of that other, less successful, less fondly remembered novelty also implemented in desperate times to woo audiences away from their television? You know, that ridiculous idea that's so unappealing that it's a wonder it was even allowed to enter public awareness, let alone cement itself undeservedly onto the timeline of significant moments in film history. Smell-O-Vision. Where is the return of Smell-O-Vision?
Behold my 1000-plus words way of asking you this simple question: how many times have you seen The Dark Knight?
Here's a little story I probably tell too often (it's even in my "Meet the Team" bio): Long ago, at an art school that should remain nameless (I hated the place too much to give it any kind of credit), I studied film production, with the crazy notion that I would be the one to bridge the gap between Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino (this was in the mid-90s, when all film students just wanted to be the latter). And while I wasn't any good at being the kind of leader necessary to be a great director, I thought I was on track to (at the very least) become an Oscar-winning screenwriter.
Then, in the middle of my freshman year, I went to see 12 Monkeys. And when it was over, I stayed in the theater and I watched it again. I believe this to be the moment when I decided that I no longer wanted to be a filmmaker and wanted to be a film watcher. But it would take me another year of school -- during which I changed the names in my dream from Spielberg and Tarantino to Gilliam and Hartley -- to realize that I could be a ... professional movie theater employee!
Years more would go by before I actually realized that I was better off writing about the movies than attempting to write for the movies, and fortunately all that time managing multiplexes gave me an extra niche to write about, as well. This week's column, however, despite its long-winded introduction, is not about how I came to write "The Exhibitionist." It's actually more specifically about that repeat screening of 12 Monkeys 12 years ago. Because thanks to The Dark Knight's box office success reportedly linked in part to repeat business, I've been thinking about the few movies that I've actually seen in the theater more than once.
Now that the weekend is nearly over, and you all have seen The Dark Knight multiple times, let me ask you a question: did you sneak your own snacks into the theater? Be honest. I won't get angry. I'll just let out a huge sigh.
Yes, it's time once again to ask the question, only five months after Kim asked it the last time. But it's an issue that I must continue discussing (at least once each busy movie season), because I see it as one of the worst cyclical problems affecting the exhibition industry. Of course, if you commonly do it, you'll no more listen to me now than you've listened in the past. The other day, a very good friend let the world know (via her Facebook status) that she was sneaking snacks into a movie. If I can't get through to those close to me, what's the chance I'll get through to you?
At times, I think my dream vacation involves traveling the world and watching a movie in a theater wherever I stop. But despite the fact that I'm a theater geek (as Erik Davis recently pointed out), I do have other interests, and, surprisingly, moviegoing is not usually my primary objective when I take a trip. I am often curious, though, and occasionally I'll check out a cinema in another land, especially if it's a cinema unlike those I frequent at home (such as the El Cerrito Speakeasy). However, after my visit to a faraway theater this past week, I have an additional reason to consider my dream vacation to be something entirely else: cross-country moviegoing would be really, really depressing.
Because I've never been on a cinema tour, I can't say for sure, but I'm assuming that a lot of neighborhood multiplexes around the U.S. lean toward the side of dissatisfactory moviegoing experiences. Whether a corporate-owned or independent business, there are a lot of reasons that a movie theater may be underwhelming its customers on a frequent basis. Look at the usual complaints from Cinematical commenters: expensive concessions and ticket prices, dirty auditoriums, too many advertisements and ill-mannered audience members are constantly cited as excuses for why people don't go to the movies. But more than all these typical reasons is the worst offense of all: poor exhibition.
This week, I don't want to talk about anything new. I don't want to discuss the good news about studios and European exhibitors finally agreeing on a virtual print fee. I don't want to comment on Nielsen's research showing the strong consumer appetite for 3-D films (I'll be talking enough about 3-D next week in anticipation of Journey to the Center of the Earth). I don't want to even get people's hopes up about Microsoft's supposed "manners device" that silences cell phones instead of blocking them (signal blocking was recently found to be illegal in the U.S.). I really don't want to comment on Mark Gill's "The Sky is Falling" speech from the L.A. Film Festival loosely concerning the state of art house cinema (the speech is more related to film making and financing, plus I already played Chicken Littlelast week).
As usual, I'm not going to pretend to understand the technologies behind modern home entertainment. And so, before I begin, I'd like to prematurely thank any commenters who choose to weigh in on things such as "selectable output control," "the analog hole" or any other terms I might misuse or incorrectly explain. The only thing I comprehend about those electronic doohickeys in my living room is that they each somehow connect to my antiquated analog television and through the magic of, well, I don't know, I'm able to watch the occasional classic movie and mindless cake design program.
Those familiar with this column should know that I'm not here to necessarily explain how threats to movie theaters work. I'm just here to yell, "the sky is falling!" from within the lobby of the local cinema and hope that you Henny Pennys and Goosey Looseys are listening to my rants and ramblings and at least try to go to the movies more often (and hopefully buy at least one thing at the concession stand). This time, however, I feel even less knowledgeable about the latest threat, and I feel even more fearful that this is the beginning of the end. The cinemapocalypse, if you will.
When was the last time you tried to see a movie, but couldn't, because it was sold out? I mean really sold out. Sure, you may have recently sat in a packed auditorium and watched a movie that was "sold out." And you may have recently been turned away from a specific showtime for some new movie because that one showing was "sold out." These things come with the season, when everyone's rushing to see the latest summer blockbuster as soon as it's released to theaters. But I bet it's been a long, long time since you were shut out completely from seeing a movie on opening weekend.
I experienced two sellouts this week (details forthcoming), and the frustration made me recall an experience from 21 years ago, when Beverly Hills Cop II came out. The reason I remember this specific movie's release is because I was keeping a summer journal at the time. I was only ten, so I didn't write much on each day, but through the opening weekend for BHC2, I repeated the same phrase three times: "Tried to see Beverly Hills Cop II, but it was sold out." Then, through the movie's second weekend, I again repeated the same phrase on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Finally, in its third weekend, I was able to write, "Saw Beverly Hills Cop II. It was good."
Before getting into this week's topic, I'd like to give a shout out to my British compatriots, Mark Oakley and Matt Edwards, over at Den of Geek. In case this column isn't relevant enough to the exhibition industry of the UK (I apologize for not being familiar with old ads for Kia-Ora and Indian restaurants), you may want to check out their ideas on how to improve cinemas. However, few people will agree that banning the general public is a smart idea (personally I want more people going to the movies, not less).
Oh, one more important thing, which just came to my attention: SmartMoney has a great guide to saving on movie tickets. Included are the usual: free movies, second-runs, matinees, buying in bulk and clubs (such as my fave, the Regal Crown Club). But I learned one shocking thing about Cinemark Theatres: they charge extra for Friday and Saturday night shows. Another reason I'm glad I don't go at those busy times.
OK, now to this week's subject: charity fundraising at the cinema. You know, those organizations that collect money at theaters by way of ushers walking up the auditorium aisles jiggling a can. It was something I was very familiar with during my employment at various movie theaters around the Northeast. But ever since quitting the theater business three years ago, I've nearly forgotten all about the practice. This, despite the fact that I have enough free Jimmy Fund t-shirts that I could wear them consecutively and possibly avoid the laundromat for weeks.
Do you like comedy but aren't interested in seeing either You Don't Mess with the Zohan or Kung Fu Pandathis week? Fortunately, if you live in Massachussetts or Connecticut, you have another option at your local multiplex: live stand-up comedy. Since mid-May, National Amusements has been featuring "Boston's best comics" on Thursday nights as part of a new alternative entertainment offering called "Stand Up Showcase." Locations for the weekly events include three Showcase Cinemas in Mass. (Randolph, Woburn and Blackstone Valley) and one in Conn. (Buckland Hills). The shows cost $14, and you must be 21 to be admitted.
Obviously this news fits with my weekly column, The Exhibitionist, but I've already written recently on National Amusement's decision to branch out into live entertainment. Stand-up is just another addition to the live music, satellite-broadcast Red Sox games and other alternatives meant to counter decreased movie attendance. According to N.A. spokesperson Wanda Whitson (quoted on Boston.com): "This is part of [chief executive officer] Shari E. Redstone's goal of turning our 122 locations worldwide into community entertainment centers." Kinda sad for a company that has been a real force in movie exhibition for more than half a century (never mind the company's majority holdings in Viacom).
Officially, the season of summer doesn't begin for another two weeks, but for the movie business, summer 2008 started back on May 2, with the release of Iron Man. Though it seemed like an early enough start, some exhibitors would like it to begin even earlier, like in April. In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, John Fithian, who heads the National Association of Theatre Owners (the largest trade group for cinema operators), and Mike Campbell (no relation), who runs Regal Entertainment (the largest cinema chain in the U.S.), discuss the benefits of having tentpole (aka blockbuster) movies released all year long rather than in just the summer and winter holiday seasons and ask that Hollywood at least consider bumping up some major releases to April rather than the busy month of May.
The argument for limiting tentpoles to the summer has always been that it's a time when kids are out from school. But as Fithian points out, most kids are still in school through May, when the biggest blockbusters are released. And movies like Iron Man and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skullstill made a lot of money anyway. In fact, aside from whatever tentpole is scheduled for July 4th weekend, the movies released in May are often the biggest moneymakers of the year. At least for Hollywood. But according to Fithian, theater owners actually lost a lot of money in May because of how many tentpoles are released so closely together. Campbell adds that overall box office gross would be up significantly if major releases were more evenly spread out. Certainly moviegoers would appreciate having more blockbusters and/or better movies released in months like January and September, as well as other months often considered "dumping grounds" for movies that shouldn't have even been made.
Each week, The Exhibitionist comments on the latest news, trends and innovations related to the theater industry, or it discusses long-continuing problems with and complaints against cinemas in general, or it simply relates a specific moviegoing experience of yours truly. But rarely does this column get into the subject of actual movies. Well, seeing as there's not much new in the industry this week, and seeing as I'm fortunately not being dragged to see Sex and the City and therefore have no experience to relate about being a sole male in an auditorium packed with women, I figure this is a perfect time to bring up actual movies. Not just any movies, though: I'm presently only interested in discussing movies about, set in or prominently featuring movie theaters.
The earliest movie that I'm familiar with that significantly involves a theater is Buster Keaton's Sherlock Jr. The silent comedian plays a projectionist who falls asleep on the job then has a dream in which he literally climbs through the movie screen and into a detective film. A similar idea of breaking the boundary between auditorium and screen is used in Woody Allen's The Purple Rose of Cairo and in John McTiernan's The Last Action Hero, both of which involve a movie character who manages to leave his respective film within the film. But nothing tops Keaton's screen-entering stunt, which utilizes special effects that still astonish more than 80 years later.
There was a time in my life when I spent more of my weekends going to concerts than going to the movies. And many of those concerts were fittingly at a venue that had previously been a movie theater. Back then, though, I never thought about the significance of seeing The Mighty Mighty Bosstones in the same place I once watched A Nightmare on Elm Street 4. There was a fine distinction between live music and cinema.
Unlike now, when there's an ever growing feeling that for the exhibition industry cinema is dead, while live music is, umm, live. The signs have been visible for the past year: Garth Brooks selling out multiplexes; a Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus concert coming in at #1 at the box office. But nothing made the future seem as clear as last month's news that National Amusements is going into the live entertainment business.
The theater chain, which also technically owns most of Viacom, has apparently seen enough interest in live entertainment through "experiments" at its fancy Cinema De Lux locations that it will begin operating venues strictly for live entertainment, which will be called Showcase Live! (a name similar to the company's Showcase Cinemas brand of multiplexes). The first is set to open this August, and while it's the only one apparently planned out so far, the company expects to open three to five more within the next few years.
Remember serials? I don't, because I'm too young, and by the time I began going to the movies, it was already the practice for cinemas to stick to single, self-contained, feature-length fare. With the way screenings are arranged today, scheduled so that both theater owners and studios can get as much money from as many showings as possible, there's just no room for any accompanying shorts, especially the kind that don't end in a conclusive manner.
I'd probably be okay with being left out of that experience from the moviegoing past, but each time another Indiana Jones movie is released, I can't help but think I'm at least a little less appreciative of George Lucas' intent than some of the older folk in the audience. When Lucas thought up the original Raiders of the Lost Ark, he partly meant the film as homage to the serials he remembered from his childhood.
Yet Raiders didn't end with a cliffhanger, as most serials had on a weekly basis. And with the third sequel to that film, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, arriving in theaters this week, I still wonder why at least two installments couldn't have been connected with the serializing device. Lucas had already somewhat shown us, through the uncertain ending of The Empire Stikes Back and continuation/resolution beginning of Return of the Jedi, that it could be done.
Do you like comedy but aren't interested in seeing either 
Officially, the season of summer doesn't begin for another two weeks, but for the movie business, summer 2008 started back on May 2, with the release of 
