There's no fun in motion pictures these days. Well, that's not exactly true -- movies now have a lot more depth than they had in the past. Compare "American Beauty" with some of the tacky musicals from the '40s and '50s (actually, by the same token, I guess you could compare "Stomp the Yard" with "Casablanca"). But I think that overall, movies have begun probing character more deeply than ever before. Yet at the same time, the ritual of going to the movies is in decline, as DVDs are increasingly released before films are out of the theater, and YouTube and Facebook present vapid but easily accessible sources of entertainment. What hope can there be for the humble filmgoer in this depraved age?
Moviegoing is more than just a fun pastime. It's about sharing a fantasy with a lot of people you don't know, together, in a big room. This is actually kind of magical -- a ritual, really. In the same way that shamanistic cultures hold ceremonies where ecstatic trances occur, movies set everyone on the same emotional frequency. I think this is why it makes sense to take someone on a date to a movie -- although you're experiencing the film through your own eyeballs, you're sharing feelings -- despite the fact that you're not talking. John Lennon once said, "A dream you dream alone is just a dream. But a dream you dream together is reality." I'd say that goes for the movies, too -- "a dream you dream together."
But this ritual is dying. Going to the movies is increasingly expensive, for one thing. Although we get the student discount at The Nugget for $4 tickets, the price of a movie ticket in my hometown (a fairly Middle American, apple-pie-steaming-on-the-windowsill place, where things are generally inexpensive) is roughly $8. And Hanover is a pretty big exception, since it is a college town that goes out of its way to provide quality entertainment. In big cities, from what I've heard, tickets are even more highly priced. Plus, the popcorn at many theaters I've visited has been fairly stale. If you can't even have fresh, genuine popcorn at the movies (also overpriced -- $5 for musty maize puffs at my local picture house), what's the point?
I recently went to see a double-feature of two 3-D movies from the '40s that were playing at the Hop. I pondered why movie theaters were no longer offering up such innovative gimmicks -- or even better food. It seems like those would be reasonable ploys to bring audiences back. In India, they have the right idea. Although Bollywood often produces the kind of sickly musicals that are thankfully dead to us by now, you can find plenty of delicious culinary enticement at the theatre. In parts of New Jersey where the majority of the population is Indian-American, you'll find samosas and other tasty victuals at movie theaters. The movies are still a ritual in these communities -- a source of escapist wonder.
That kind of escapism is pretty essential to getting by in life, even though it may seem un-redeeming at a glance. In an interview with The Onion AV Club, Samuel L. Jackson was once asked whether he would rather make movies like "Snakes on a Plane" or esoteric art house flicks. He replied he would rather do "a steady diet" of "Snakes on a Plane"-like movies. When you consider what a dreary grind life can be, it's necessary to have that momentary release of steam. When you watch a movie you are defeating time and overthrowing the stress of your own thoughts (the same is true for reading or listening to music, or for any form of art appreciation). We are all struggling against time -- against the inevitable march towards death, the infidelity of our own flesh and organs. By enjoying a motion picture with other people, we pass into a realm where time acquires greater levity and we share that realm together.
Now, I'm not some sort of anti-technologist who is stridently opposed to DVDs and the Internet and wants us to all go back to thinking the Marx Brothers were a fun time. But I do agree with something John Updike once wrote in an essay on the beer can. Updike explains that the old-time beer made a lovely fizzing noise when you opened it with the weird claw thing with which they used to open beer cans. He goes on to say that they replaced this lovely mechanism with an "ugly, shmoo-shaped tab." But one can circumvent this by simply turning the can over and using the old-method. Yet the prospect of drinking an upside down beer can makes him rather uneasy, says Updike. His solution is to make the logos on beer cans look the same whether they are upright or upside down -- like playing cards. This, he explains, is "progress with an escape-hatch." And that, my fellow students, is exactly what we need with our present-day movie-going and entertainment experiences.
