Over Valentine’s Day weekend I partook in a ritual that is increasingly rare: a trip to the theater. I’m a bit of a Regal Cinemas loyalist (thanks to their Crown Club rewards program), but they’re all closed, so AMC was good enough.
The choice of the word “ritual” is not mere metaphor: for me, there really is a certain rhythm and order to movie-going. It’s not the same as watching a movie on the couch (as this excursion reminded me), but truly is a whole experience. The theater is the one place I’ll pay $7 for a Diet Coke, and I gladly plopped down $16 for a massive bag of popcorn and a jug of artificially-sweetened carbonated beverage this weekend.
Some movies are meant to be seen on the big screen—special effects-laden epics, for example—but some movies are simply better on the big screen. The Little Things (2021), which I saw this weekend, was one such film. It’s a movie I could have easily picked up on RedBox for a fraction of the price, but I think watching it at home would have undermined my appreciation of the film considerably. Watching on the big screen demands one’s entire attention (especially now that theaters are operating at reduced capacity, making for fewer annoying patrons); watching at home offers myriad distractions. If I’d seen The Little Things at home, I don’t think I would have appreciated it as much as I did.