Lazing around the house this morning, overcast sky, Blair and I decided to drive into town (C'mon Ma--round up the young'uns. We'e a headin' to the big city!) and see Hancock.
Having decided this, Blair hopped online and called out the five theatres where the movie was playing, along with times. He also read some posted reviews out loud to me.
"What did we do before the Internet?" I asked. It seems so long ago when one had to--gasp!-call the theatre to hear the movies and their times. And you would sit on the phone for five minutes while happy pre-recorded movie man listed the times for every other movie on the planet. That's if you were lucky enough to get through. Often you were put on hold because everyone else was also calling in to see what movies were playing.
As far as early reviews, your only options were the critics (and you can't believe a word they say), or friends who had already seen the movie.
The matinee price today was $6.25. I'm going to age myself but I can remember being young and my cousin and I freaking out because movie prices had finally hit a dollar. That's back in the day when I'd go to see a movie I liked several times. I saw the original Star Wars seven times in the theatre in 1977, which was nothing compared to my cousin Andy who I think saw it something like 18 times in two weeks. These days it would be cheaper to fly the producer in for a private in-home screening versus paying to see it 18 times in the theatre.
That's supposing a movie is ever made I'd care to see 18 times. I'm tired of my summer movie options being limited by the viewing demographics of 13-year-old boys who apparently grow bored if a car or building isn't blown up every five seconds.
Crotchety? You betcha. Cause in MY day, young 'uns, they knew how to make a movie...