1983, saw LOCAL HERO in Atlanta. (Second-run theater. Saw it wvery night it was playing.) It helped me make up my mind on several things; among them, moving to a state that had four seasons, and getting married.
There are those who think Olive Oyl is a sex goddess, I guess. Anyway, London, 1968, “2001: A Space Odyssey” in a gorgeous theatre with a bar in the back and ashtrays on the seat backs. “Street Fighting Man” was playing on every pub jukebox. Since Stanley Kubrick’s “Dr. Strangelove” had been such a trip, why not go see this new sci-fi film? Cinerama, Panavison 70, the biggest screen I’d ever seen. Sitting with our group of American playwriting and acting students, I thought this was going to be shits and giggles; after all, sci-fi special effects had always inspired rude jokes about rubber suits and models on strings. I can’t speak for all my companions, but I fell into that film during the opening shot and didn’t emerge until the lights came up. I “got it,” or thought I did. I still think my understanding of the end is better than Kubrick’s, but he hadn’t been studying “Waiting for Godot” all week. What a film, what a theater, what a pretentious 19 year old.
My parents were moviegoers. They grew up in an age when going to the show was a huge part of their social life and they had great taste in films. They weren’t very compatible and loud noisy disagreements were pretty common. They did this thing where the would start fighting and one of them would grab us kids and take us to the drive-in while they cooled down. Mom or Dad. It was a quick way to declare a time-out.
So one Sunday, some kind of flair-up happened. It was cool, almost cold , a little late in the drive -in season. My Dad grabbed my little brother and me and took us off to the show. I was 12, my brother was 10. The main feature was “Which Way to the Front” A Jerry Lewis film even the French hate. Movie really sucks. My brother fell asleep . My Dad was obviously bored. The night was a bust. I figured since it was a school night we’d go home early. We ended up staying for at least the start of the second feature.
“If they move- Kill ‘em”
Yeah – The Wild Bunch. And that changed everything. I remember looking over Dad figuring we would leave any minute. I got the impression he knew it was no movie for kids but he couldn’t help himself. He knew a good movie when he saw one. And I was just amazed. It still amazes me. I bet I’ve watched it 50 times over the years.
A little while after that, I was home one Sunday afternoon, watching TV up in my room. I had a beat to shit hand me down 13” Admiral TV with a coathanger antenna that we festooned with strips of aluminum foil to capture the elusive 4th or even 5th channel - if we were lucky.
I was flipping through channels and switched to the UHF tier. I caught a rare signal from the local PBS station. They were showing some movie – a it had already started so I had no way of knowing what it was. Some guy in a robe walking down a dirt street in a town that looked a lot like something in a cowboy movie but not exactly. I was ready to flip channels when I noticed a dog, running from the back of the screen behind the guy in the robe then forward passed him. Just as he runs by the guy in the robe the dog comes into sharp focus and I noticed the severed hand in his mouth! I’m like “What!!”. I took my hand off the channel knob and settled in to watch “Yojimbo” . It was on Charles Champlin’s series ”Film Odyssey” where over the next few months I I subsequently watched the 26 most important films ever made. The series ran on Saturday nights and was rerun again on Sunday afternoon so I ended up watching each movie at least twice. I own most of them now and like the Wild Bunch I still get a thrill. I bet I’ve watched Orpheus and The Rules of the Game 100 times since then.
Of course, it's not just the movie but the when and/or where seen. Funny how a movie can be good or bad, enjoyable or not, based on things outside the movie.
My teenaged self out on a date with Kathy Daley to a late show at the Waverly theater in the Village to see "El Topo". For some reason, as we sat in the back of the theater, Kathy wanted to make out -- which was not something that happened much (if ever) to my teenaged self back then. So there I was, smooching with a pretty girl and every once in a while I'd open one eye to see something truly fucking INSANE happening on the screen. It was a bizarre juxtaposition to say the least, and I don't think my libido ever fully recovered.
My father was at the Command ‘n’ General Staff College in Ft Leavenworth when PATTON came out. The school commandant was so taken by the film that he ended classes early so the officers could see it at a matinee. Then all us school kids (I was 7th grade) got to see it that evening, meaning we got to hear all manner of billingsgate, *and* got to stay up really late on a school night. Sublime!
Wow, that's a tough one — summer movie afternoons around 1981-3: my sister & I would sit through back-to-back showings of the movie of interest that moment (so, "E.T." was one, "Raiders of the Lost Ark," and "The Empire Strikes Back " were others). I loved going to the second-run, dollar theater in Boulder while an undergrad because the low, low price encouraged a lot of audience participation. Um... seeing "Deliverance" for the first time at the university's film series... and then having to se it again the very next night because my usual group of friends wanted to go.. uhf... Taking a date to see "The Color Purple" because the movie we wanted to see was sold out (no callback on that one, no surprise there).
But the winner has to be, seeing "Kagemusha" and "Altered States" on the same night with my dad (fadograf at alicu, he's not around much anymore there these days) in 1980. I was ten. I loved samurais so had been interested in seeing the first (not knowing it was three hours long, subtitled, & in B&W) but dad at the time was seeking places to hide from how badly his marriage was to my mom was falling apart, so he kind of didn't care what we did as long as he was away from her -- and I was precocious anyways, so what could have been the harm, right?
My best friend since infancy and I had reached our early teens and were growing apart as you do. But we both loved animation. So we went downtown, snuck behind the tiny screen to get baked, and watched "Heavy Metal". Which even for teen boys was pretty juvenile but the experience of being there with my friend was fantastic.
Second is again animation! With a bunch of friends crammed into a station wagon at the drive-in for (I think) "Toxic Avenger" and "Surf Nazis Must Die". At the intermission, with no warning, "Bambi Meets Godzilla" played. Despite being stone sober I laughed so hard I couldn't stop. For nearly 20 minutes. My lungs would spasm and I couldn't breathe and it would peter out. But as soon as I recovered a bit it would take off again. That's cinema.
1998. I took my niece, then 8 years old, so see the Michael Keaton movie "Jack Frost". When it was over she told me it was the worst movie ever made, and I was so, so proud of her.
One of the most memorable movie going experiences I ever had was back in the spring of 1979 when I was fifteen. I convinced a group of friends to skip school to go to the first matinee of George Romero's Dawn of the Dead. I was a morbid child, a lover of horror films since I could remember, and I had been obsessed with Night of the Living Dead throughout my childhood after first reading about it in Famous Monsters of Filmland and hearing babysitters and older cousins rave about it. I finally saw an edited version when it premiered on the local late-night creature feature when I was ten or eleven and absolutely LOVED it, so when I saw the first commercials for the sequel I immediately began the countdown to the day of its release. The guys I hung around with, although familiar with the first film, were more interested in an excuse to goof off and smoke weed and they (and even me!) really had no idea for the shock in store for us.
Two of my buddies were brothers (close friends of mine to this very day), and the younger of the two was shall we say not the most enthusiastic horror buff. As he stood in line to buy soda and popcorn the rest of us took our seats. The lights went down and the film started before Johnny made his purchase. He stumbled around in the dark looking for us and his older brother, sensing the younger's growing nervousness, motioned for the rest of us to slide down in our seats so he couldn't see us. Johnny's unease turned into anger and he began to shout, "YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, I'M NOT WATCHING THIS ALONE, GODAMMIT! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Our snickering revealed our location, and when he found us he knew all too well that his brother was responsible for the ruse and he dumped his entire Coke all over him, screaming "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!" His brother delivered a kick to the hand holding the popcorn, showering it all over several rows. The other filmgoers began to grumble and yell, "SIT DOWN, YOU IDIOTS!" Right about then, one of the SWAT team blew off a guys head with a shotgun on the screen, and that finally stunned them into taking their seats.
We've been retelling and laughing about that story for years. As for Dawn of the Dead, I must've seen it a dozen times that summer as well as numerous times at midnight showings and on VHS over the years. It's still the best zombie film ever made, an American classic. Those were the days.
here, i'll bite: one that sticks out to me was the summer of 2000, when i was living on the Lower East Side and fruitlessly taking acting classes in between semesters of college. i went by myself to an outdoor showing of "The Maltese Falcon," a perfect movie I'd seen at least twice before, but opened up for me in a new way on a big screen with a big crowd, in a way it couldn't while watching it on VHS in my living room. the audience laughed, they clapped, they oohed and ahhed. it was bigger than life.
most memorable theatergoing experience that springs to mind is seeing Jonathan Glazer's "Under the Skin," for my money maybe the best film of its decade. it's an overwhelming movie to see in a dark theater because, like few other movies i've seen, almost all of it is drawn with very thin and faint slivers of light in a mostly-dark screen. a completely absorbing mood experience.
Missus Hairless saw the premiere of ALIEN in Staunton, VA; in attendance was a loud redneck and his date. Said ‘neck was making loud commentary, including, after the chest-burster scene, yelling, “G-ddamn, I wish *mine* was that big!” To which his date rejoined, “So do I, Baby, SO DO I!”, and stalked out, to a round of applause from the audience.
1983, saw LOCAL HERO in Atlanta. (Second-run theater. Saw it wvery night it was playing.) It helped me make up my mind on several things; among them, moving to a state that had four seasons, and getting married.
Sitting through “M*A*S*H” twice in a row on the cusp of age 13.
There are those who think Olive Oyl is a sex goddess, I guess. Anyway, London, 1968, “2001: A Space Odyssey” in a gorgeous theatre with a bar in the back and ashtrays on the seat backs. “Street Fighting Man” was playing on every pub jukebox. Since Stanley Kubrick’s “Dr. Strangelove” had been such a trip, why not go see this new sci-fi film? Cinerama, Panavison 70, the biggest screen I’d ever seen. Sitting with our group of American playwriting and acting students, I thought this was going to be shits and giggles; after all, sci-fi special effects had always inspired rude jokes about rubber suits and models on strings. I can’t speak for all my companions, but I fell into that film during the opening shot and didn’t emerge until the lights came up. I “got it,” or thought I did. I still think my understanding of the end is better than Kubrick’s, but he hadn’t been studying “Waiting for Godot” all week. What a film, what a theater, what a pretentious 19 year old.
My parents were moviegoers. They grew up in an age when going to the show was a huge part of their social life and they had great taste in films. They weren’t very compatible and loud noisy disagreements were pretty common. They did this thing where the would start fighting and one of them would grab us kids and take us to the drive-in while they cooled down. Mom or Dad. It was a quick way to declare a time-out.
So one Sunday, some kind of flair-up happened. It was cool, almost cold , a little late in the drive -in season. My Dad grabbed my little brother and me and took us off to the show. I was 12, my brother was 10. The main feature was “Which Way to the Front” A Jerry Lewis film even the French hate. Movie really sucks. My brother fell asleep . My Dad was obviously bored. The night was a bust. I figured since it was a school night we’d go home early. We ended up staying for at least the start of the second feature.
“If they move- Kill ‘em”
Yeah – The Wild Bunch. And that changed everything. I remember looking over Dad figuring we would leave any minute. I got the impression he knew it was no movie for kids but he couldn’t help himself. He knew a good movie when he saw one. And I was just amazed. It still amazes me. I bet I’ve watched it 50 times over the years.
A little while after that, I was home one Sunday afternoon, watching TV up in my room. I had a beat to shit hand me down 13” Admiral TV with a coathanger antenna that we festooned with strips of aluminum foil to capture the elusive 4th or even 5th channel - if we were lucky.
I was flipping through channels and switched to the UHF tier. I caught a rare signal from the local PBS station. They were showing some movie – a it had already started so I had no way of knowing what it was. Some guy in a robe walking down a dirt street in a town that looked a lot like something in a cowboy movie but not exactly. I was ready to flip channels when I noticed a dog, running from the back of the screen behind the guy in the robe then forward passed him. Just as he runs by the guy in the robe the dog comes into sharp focus and I noticed the severed hand in his mouth! I’m like “What!!”. I took my hand off the channel knob and settled in to watch “Yojimbo” . It was on Charles Champlin’s series ”Film Odyssey” where over the next few months I I subsequently watched the 26 most important films ever made. The series ran on Saturday nights and was rerun again on Sunday afternoon so I ended up watching each movie at least twice. I own most of them now and like the Wild Bunch I still get a thrill. I bet I’ve watched Orpheus and The Rules of the Game 100 times since then.
Of course, it's not just the movie but the when and/or where seen. Funny how a movie can be good or bad, enjoyable or not, based on things outside the movie.
My teenaged self out on a date with Kathy Daley to a late show at the Waverly theater in the Village to see "El Topo". For some reason, as we sat in the back of the theater, Kathy wanted to make out -- which was not something that happened much (if ever) to my teenaged self back then. So there I was, smooching with a pretty girl and every once in a while I'd open one eye to see something truly fucking INSANE happening on the screen. It was a bizarre juxtaposition to say the least, and I don't think my libido ever fully recovered.
My father was at the Command ‘n’ General Staff College in Ft Leavenworth when PATTON came out. The school commandant was so taken by the film that he ended classes early so the officers could see it at a matinee. Then all us school kids (I was 7th grade) got to see it that evening, meaning we got to hear all manner of billingsgate, *and* got to stay up really late on a school night. Sublime!
I like great acting. Too numerous to mention. The movies all have flaws, but still...
My girlfriend was pretty tolerant of my art-house snobbery. (Her predecessor thought Forrest Gump was the apex of Western Culture.)
One night we're in line at the George Eastman House Theater. Girlfriend asks, "So is Erasererhead a comedy?"
I reply, "It's profoundly disturbing." The guy in line behind us explodes laughing.
That girlfriend has been my wife for twenty years now.
Wow, that's a tough one — summer movie afternoons around 1981-3: my sister & I would sit through back-to-back showings of the movie of interest that moment (so, "E.T." was one, "Raiders of the Lost Ark," and "The Empire Strikes Back " were others). I loved going to the second-run, dollar theater in Boulder while an undergrad because the low, low price encouraged a lot of audience participation. Um... seeing "Deliverance" for the first time at the university's film series... and then having to se it again the very next night because my usual group of friends wanted to go.. uhf... Taking a date to see "The Color Purple" because the movie we wanted to see was sold out (no callback on that one, no surprise there).
But the winner has to be, seeing "Kagemusha" and "Altered States" on the same night with my dad (fadograf at alicu, he's not around much anymore there these days) in 1980. I was ten. I loved samurais so had been interested in seeing the first (not knowing it was three hours long, subtitled, & in B&W) but dad at the time was seeking places to hide from how badly his marriage was to my mom was falling apart, so he kind of didn't care what we did as long as he was away from her -- and I was precocious anyways, so what could have been the harm, right?
I turned out okay I guess....
My best friend since infancy and I had reached our early teens and were growing apart as you do. But we both loved animation. So we went downtown, snuck behind the tiny screen to get baked, and watched "Heavy Metal". Which even for teen boys was pretty juvenile but the experience of being there with my friend was fantastic.
Second is again animation! With a bunch of friends crammed into a station wagon at the drive-in for (I think) "Toxic Avenger" and "Surf Nazis Must Die". At the intermission, with no warning, "Bambi Meets Godzilla" played. Despite being stone sober I laughed so hard I couldn't stop. For nearly 20 minutes. My lungs would spasm and I couldn't breathe and it would peter out. But as soon as I recovered a bit it would take off again. That's cinema.
1998. I took my niece, then 8 years old, so see the Michael Keaton movie "Jack Frost". When it was over she told me it was the worst movie ever made, and I was so, so proud of her.
One of the most memorable movie going experiences I ever had was back in the spring of 1979 when I was fifteen. I convinced a group of friends to skip school to go to the first matinee of George Romero's Dawn of the Dead. I was a morbid child, a lover of horror films since I could remember, and I had been obsessed with Night of the Living Dead throughout my childhood after first reading about it in Famous Monsters of Filmland and hearing babysitters and older cousins rave about it. I finally saw an edited version when it premiered on the local late-night creature feature when I was ten or eleven and absolutely LOVED it, so when I saw the first commercials for the sequel I immediately began the countdown to the day of its release. The guys I hung around with, although familiar with the first film, were more interested in an excuse to goof off and smoke weed and they (and even me!) really had no idea for the shock in store for us.
Two of my buddies were brothers (close friends of mine to this very day), and the younger of the two was shall we say not the most enthusiastic horror buff. As he stood in line to buy soda and popcorn the rest of us took our seats. The lights went down and the film started before Johnny made his purchase. He stumbled around in the dark looking for us and his older brother, sensing the younger's growing nervousness, motioned for the rest of us to slide down in our seats so he couldn't see us. Johnny's unease turned into anger and he began to shout, "YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, I'M NOT WATCHING THIS ALONE, GODAMMIT! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Our snickering revealed our location, and when he found us he knew all too well that his brother was responsible for the ruse and he dumped his entire Coke all over him, screaming "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!" His brother delivered a kick to the hand holding the popcorn, showering it all over several rows. The other filmgoers began to grumble and yell, "SIT DOWN, YOU IDIOTS!" Right about then, one of the SWAT team blew off a guys head with a shotgun on the screen, and that finally stunned them into taking their seats.
We've been retelling and laughing about that story for years. As for Dawn of the Dead, I must've seen it a dozen times that summer as well as numerous times at midnight showings and on VHS over the years. It's still the best zombie film ever made, an American classic. Those were the days.
here, i'll bite: one that sticks out to me was the summer of 2000, when i was living on the Lower East Side and fruitlessly taking acting classes in between semesters of college. i went by myself to an outdoor showing of "The Maltese Falcon," a perfect movie I'd seen at least twice before, but opened up for me in a new way on a big screen with a big crowd, in a way it couldn't while watching it on VHS in my living room. the audience laughed, they clapped, they oohed and ahhed. it was bigger than life.
most memorable theatergoing experience that springs to mind is seeing Jonathan Glazer's "Under the Skin," for my money maybe the best film of its decade. it's an overwhelming movie to see in a dark theater because, like few other movies i've seen, almost all of it is drawn with very thin and faint slivers of light in a mostly-dark screen. a completely absorbing mood experience.
Missus Hairless saw the premiere of ALIEN in Staunton, VA; in attendance was a loud redneck and his date. Said ‘neck was making loud commentary, including, after the chest-burster scene, yelling, “G-ddamn, I wish *mine* was that big!” To which his date rejoined, “So do I, Baby, SO DO I!”, and stalked out, to a round of applause from the audience.