Pink Trash Goes to the Movies
Not only do I love a casserole, I’m an entertainment whore as well. Along with my friend Dave, we follow everything from the billboard charts to the box office reports. So considering I haven’t seen a new film release in over two months, I was severely overdue for a popcorn flick. As a result, on Friday I went to the movies.
I rode with Chris to work so I could review my Visa documents with a human resources representative. Instead of taking the train back home (we all know how much I love public transportation), I decided to wait for Chris. So after lunch, Chris dropped me off at the mall. And like an angst-ridden teenager, I roamed the megaplex – weaving in and out of Virgin Megastore, Zara and what resembled an A & F knock-off from Russia. But once I realized I still had 3 hours to kill, I made my way to “Cine-Cité.”
Once I got there, I wasn’t quite sure where to begin. For starters, I needed to make sure they showed movies in “Version Original.” And considering I was in the suburbs, that’s not a given. But after finding a small bulletin board that provided both movie times and picture details, I found a few scattered about the listing. Unfortunately, most were stale, American leftovers from August and September including The Brothers Grimm. One new film, however, opened today – The Legend of Zorro. Even though the first was entertaining, the sequel looked painful. But it was new, started in 10 minutes, and was in VO. So off I went to the ticket counter.
At most Parisian movie theatres, you purchase a “seat” at the movie – including placement within the stadium. It ensures you don’t get trampled by Junior Mint loving “movieholics” like myself. But as I stood to the side and watched other movie patrons purchase their ticket, it became clear this theatre was different. It seemed quite normal. With my nerves settling, I hopped in line and bought my first movie ticket for €9.50.
Afterwards, I headed to the concession stand. Of course, I had scoped it out prior to committing to the movie (because if they didn’t have ice, I was walking). I can’t see a movie without a soda. And I can’t have a soda without ice. But they did, so one problem was averted. And not only that, it was perhaps the most perfect soda ice available: “squirrel shit” ice. Not the large cubes but rather small pellets that perfectly compliment Diet Coke or any other soda product. I selected my large drink, Kit Kat balls (€5.90 special) and headed to the checkout line.
While I waited, I happened to glance at the self-service popcorn wall. I’m not sure how long the various popcorn bags had been sitting, but I was surprised to see not only regular popcorn but “sucré” popcorn as well. I’m assuming it tasted like Kettle Corn. Since I was trying to stick with my healthy eating program (no, not a diet), I thought a few Kit Kat balls would be better. I was wrong. The Kit Kat balls were nothing more than cardboard covered with glue.
Once I settled into my stadium seat, I began appreciating the theatre’s cleanliness. It wasn’t adorned with many accoutrements, but the fact that I didn’t need a Germ Buffy to protect my head from sticking to the seat was a plus. And with only around 10 people joining me for the show, I realized one benefit of seeing an American movie in Paris is the associated short lines and interest level from French speaking citizens.
Two hours and thirty minutes later, I left the theatre numb. The movie wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad. It was average (and when did Antonio Banderas get a double chin?) Rather, I considered it a somewhat entertaining French lesson (when compared to sitting in a classroom watching the time pass by). With sub-titles, I at least feel as though I learned something. Not that I can remember any specific words, but it’s all about repetition. The more I see and hear, the more I learn. And the more I learn, the faster I’ll be able to have conversations with others than myself.