movies aren’t supposed to be predictable.
it’s the little shocks and surprises that make blinking seem disrespectful and the expensive popcorn prices more reasonable.
it seems like an antiquated practice now that planet earth got sick and couldn’t come out to play for a year—but, i miss the movies.
arriving early, alone, hopefully in a seat next to no one, waiting for the opening credits and ads to finish—listening for the director’s choice of opening music and the writer’s selection of initial dialogue—excited to be thrusted into another world that will make me forget about mine for an hour and fifty-four minutes.
interestingly enough, i think we became the movies in the March of 101 score anno domini.
we became the star-studded cast and the nervously anxious onlookers simultaneously.
we watched ourselves maneuver through a plot summary filled with hero’s and heroine’s journeys, suspense, climaxes and cliffhangers designed for the most skilled thespians—and we never auditioned.
not a single curtain call.
and the location scout decided that the whole world would do just fine.
i suppose art grew weary of imitating life and vice versa—
they decided to become one.