Cursed Tongue: Schlock Therapy

Posted by CursedTongue on August 21, 2006

Two theater chains are building three theaters within a three-mile radius of each other near my neighborhood. The combined number of screens in these theaters will be 44. At the moment, the neighborhood is still so rural that the Petsmart has a quarter of its space devoted to horse gear.

But if you stand outside, under the din of construction equipment, you can hear the land developers salivating over the Indian Reservations like Hannibal Lecter, because the dairy farms, fields of cabbage, and raw desert are being swallowed up by despotic HOA-run communities and strip malls with cash advance stores.

The developers are running out of desert to defile, and the untouched pockets of reservation land calls seductively to builders. I can only hope that the tribal leaders tell the developers to get lost in the labyrinth-like malls they built and stick their shiny beads where the sun don’t shine.

Within a year, we’ll have 44 conveniently located screens. It seems optimistic of the theater companies to think that they will bring in enough business to support them, even if this area continues to evict cows and coyotes without compunction and attract home-buying suckers like me as expected. It is optimistic of me to think that they might lower prices and get into a ticket sales war.

I should be excited, despite the plunder of our fragile desert ecosystem. When the theaters are open, my husband and I will be spending considerably less on gas when we get the courage up to brave the movie theater. Not because the theaters are that much closer, but because they’ll probably have ample parking, unlike the theater at the Chandler Fashion Center. Where patrons have to show up at 9 a.m. to guarantee themselves a spot in the abysmally inadequate mall parking for the 7 p.m. showing. This will mean that my sweet husband won’t have to spend 30 minutes muttering under his breath while he follows unsuspecting mall goers through the parking lot in pursuit of a spot.

I’m not excited because it only means that there are more screens available for people to view Ace Ventura III. If you laughed at the idea of another sequel to Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, it was probably because you thought I was kidding.

I’ve just about given up on the thought of even going to the theater. On the off chance that a movie isn’t a complete disappointment, the big drawback, for me, is that one must watch in a room full of other people. People that state the obvious, as if you aren’t watching the same movie they are and can’t see and hear for yourself. People that answer their cell phones, and proceed to talk about where they “are at.” People that show up late, sit right behind you and kick your seat until you move, even though you’re in the stadium seating, and there is no possible way that you were obstructing their view, no matter if you’re a six foot Amazon woman, and they’re a bratty brat nose-picking brat!

The most recent movie viewing fiasco was our trip to see Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. I lower my standards for movies where I know there are going to be kids. I know there’s going to be wiggling and talking and people getting up for pee breaks and popcorn refills, and that I’m just going to have to deal with it. But this was one of our worst theater experiences ever.

We sat in a row with the bladder infection family. There was about six of them and they each went to the bathroom at least twice. Just when my knees started to cool off from being brushed against and I thought they couldn’t possibly have to go again, they did. It could have been all of the water on-screen, but I don’t think so, because it didn’t seem to affect other families with children.

I know I was affected by Pirates, but not by the sounds of sloshing and dripping. About halfway through the movie I was craving calamari so badly, that I would have purchased some from the theater concessions (against my better judgment), had they sold it. One of my personal rules for survival is never to buy seafood from any place that also sells hot dogs.

I’d really rather wait to see a movie until I can rent it or buy it, and watch it in a place where it doesn’t cost us $16 to get in, and another $9 for popcorn and a Dr. Pepper. It’s not as if one of the three theaters will have seats that punish movie interruptions, by giving talkers a mild electrical shock. I’d rather watch in my own home, on my own comfy couch, where I can rewind when my own personal movie disrupter (my sweet husband) decides he needs to know what other movie a particular actor was in.

It’s not just my little corner of the Valley being inundated by movie drivel. Multiplexes are popping up everywhere in Phoenix. I fail to grasp how theater owners think they can overbuild, while the movie studios continue to churn out schlock like Snakes on a Plane and Rocky VI. Neither of which I have seen, nor will I see. But trust me, they’re schlock.

I suspect that instead of coming down the price of tickets and concession, items will go up, and I’ll continue to be baffled at the multitudes of people willing to be fleeced, and still valuing the entertainment so little that they talk through the whole film. And the developers will keep building theaters, parking lots and storefronts, until the 2 hour drive from here to Tucson is one continuous strip mall. They’ll have their fava beans and eat them, too.

- Sarah Letnes

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Tags: humor, movies

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