My love of going to the movies during the day began with my job. As a magazine editor tasked in the 2010s with finding entertainment stories, I often attended film screenings for journalists, many of which were scheduled for the early morning so that we could get to writing afterward. At first, I viewed these excursions as merely a professional obligation. I would walk into the screening bleary-eyed, coffee and pastry in hand, and slump into my seat. And yet, each time I emerged from the dark theater some two hours later, I felt revitalized—ready to take on the day. If the life wisdom espoused by self-improvement columns and my grizzled colleagues was “Do the hardest thing first,” I was taking the opposite approach. I was beginning my day doing the most pleasurable thing. It was, quite literally, an eye-opener.
Nearly a decade later, my soft spot for matinees remains. Although I’m no longer working as an editor, I still utilize weekends and holidays for early jaunts to the theater whenever I can. These showings have numerous advantages over their evening counterparts. The tickets are typically cheaper, for one. Daytime movie audiences also tend to be more relaxed, and to go alone. Walk into an 11 a.m. screening of Shazam! Fury of the Gods, and you’ll find yourself among kindred spirits: people in sweats who’ve chosen to start their day in the space between public and private, hiding out from the larger world while still taking part in it. Earlier in the day, before many of life’s obligations have had a chance to weigh on you, moviegoing can be an even greater sensory feast than usual: One can more easily pay attention to the flavor of rich, buttery popcorn; to the oxblood velvet of the seats; to the tiny white aisle lights, twinkling invitingly like an airport runway. The luxury of time sprawling out before you makes everything feel elevated.
Most of all, when I get to start the day with a film, I am reminded that culture is an integral part of life. Often, my weeknight Netflix consumption is a necessary form of self-absentia, a passive consumer experience meant to rid myself of the day’s stresses. By that time, I’m just looking for a soft landing. But the rare joy of a matinee foregrounds a movie as something worth my utmost attention. I’m hardly the only one who feels this way. As a composition student at Juilliard in the 1940s, the American philosopher Stanley Cavell frequently skipped classes and instead went to the movies during the day. These trips left such an impression on Cavell that he would later write, “Memories of movies are strand over strand with memories of my life.”
Many times, a movie before noon can be a guilty pleasure, like cake for breakfast. Other times, the clarity of the morning can lead to moments of genuine introspection through cinema. And then there are instances when the film itself matters less than the time that a matinee facilitates with friends and family.
Case in point: Some years ago, my father told me he’d begun experiencing lapses in his short-term memory and was contemplating seeing a doctor. A retired physics teacher who’d made his living explaining complex scientific concepts, he was starting to find even simple ideas difficult to articulate. When I gave him a book for his birthday, a bulging spy novel by the author Daniel Silva that my mother had suggested, he turned it over in his hands, seemingly confused by how it had gotten there. It would be years before we had an official diagnosis, but we knew that my once-brilliant father was in decline.
People with dementia tend to be a little sharper in the mornings than at night, so my family began scheduling outings early in the day—including going to the movies. That first winter, we avoided most of the crush of holiday movie crowds by catching a 10:30 a.m. screening of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. A storm had dumped several inches of snow on southeastern Wisconsin, but we still made it in time to grab coffees from the concession stand before taking our seats. Afterward, while standing on the curb and warily eyeing the icy parking lot, I asked my dad what he’d thought of the film. “Best one so far,” he said.
I can’t say I agreed, but who cares? I realized, at that moment, that it didn’t much matter whether Han died or Leia lived, or even if my dad remembered who those characters were. In the comfortable silence of the theater, we had sat side by side and traveled to another galaxy, all before lunch. We stepped out, blinking in the midday sun, marveling at how much time we had left.
"Movies" - Google News
June 03, 2023 at 07:00PM
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The Time-Bending Power of the Movie Matinee - The Atlantic
"Movies" - Google News
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