andamu

Sagnik has been giving me a hard time about the fact that I don't watch movies in the theater. In fact, the last time I was in a movie theater was December 1999, in Durban, South Africa, where we saw a double bill: "The World is Not Enough" and "The General's Daughter."

I used to watch a lot of movies; those who have been reading my blog for a longer time will recall that as a student the first time around I used to live in an apartment block set atop a midtown shopping center. The movie theaters were at the lowest level, so I used to lock my apartment door, walk down the corridor, call the elevator and descend to the theater entrance. There were four or five other theater complexes within a radius of four blocks outside as well.

I think my best movie experience in a theater was seeing a rerun of the Aristocats at ten p.m. along with an entirely adult audience; no screaming kids, just a group of people who took simple, uncomplicated joy and a certain sense of a special shared experience from the movie.
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So, what happened? Well, for one thing we came to the US, and at my advanced age I went back to university to start studying all over again. I enrolled for a Bachelors in Computer Engineering, and worked my tushy off - completing the degree in three years. Obviously you know how I spent my summers. And then I was one of the only ones in my class at the prestigious engineering school to have a job offer in hand when I graduated. In that market, I grabbed it (it helped that it was my dream job) and went straight to work.

Since I've started I've been saving my leave to get enough together for a decent trip to India (which we'll be able to take this year from Thanksgiving to New Year), and in the interim working 10+ hour days before coming home to a family and blogs and various other things occupying my time.

Quite frankly, I haven't really had the desire to go and spend my time and money in a movie theater. For a long time the only movies I saw were on flights and the occasional showing on TV. Very rarely would we visit the video store.
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A couple of weeks ago my husband took a membership in Blockbuster Online, however. It works basically like Netflix, and adds coupons for two in-store rentals a month. Therefore we will be getting a steady stream of movies now, and at first I will most likely feel obligated to watch it, and later would most likely just glance at it cursorily. But suggestions of what to add to my queue would be gratefully received.

The first DVDs we ordered were Peter Brook's Mahabharata. In fact, to some extent that is why we took the membership because online was the only way to get hold of them in this area. I hesitate to discuss the production here, however, because there are such a lot of strong feelings surrounding this work. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, recall the tempest surrounding the Last Temptation of Christ for an inkling - although of course the reasons for the reactions were vastly different, only the intensity was the same.)

The third movie in this first batch was About a Boy, a British comedy that could easily be dismissed as a lightweight piece of fluff. I found some redeeming qualities in it, however, most significantly in its refusal to descend to stereotypical resolutions and easy answers, e.g. Will and Mom do not fall in love and they all live happily ever after, Marcus doesn't turn out to have the voice of an angel, have the auditorium on their feet, or become immensely popular overnight.

It's a nice movie, fun and funny, but by no means a great work. See it; unless you can't stand Hugh Grant you'll probably enjoy it. But I certainly wouldn't drive across town to get to it.
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Our penultimate visit to a movie theater was in a northern suburb of Chicago, seeing "As Good As It Gets." The movie had just opened, and the theater was packed (did I mention I hate crowds?)
After her son is finally accurately diagnosed when Nicholson foots the bill after years of hospital runs, Helen Hunt exclaims "&*^%-ing HMOs!" The entire theater roared in appreciation. That is the only thing I miss, that shared experience.

When my sister was about eight years old we saw "Annie," and we were petrified when she started climbing the railway tracks like a ladder on the raised drawbridge.
As the villain grabbed again at her ankle, Nini shouted: "Kick him!" in utter panic. Ripples of laughter went through the audience once the shock wore off, and the next time the bad guy made a grab for her, the entire theater semi-whispered: "Kick him!"