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I occasionally have people who haven't been here before come late for the movie and say, "It hasn't started yet, has it?"
Well, yes, the movie actually started twenty minutes ago.
I guess they're used to theatres that play all kinds of crap before the show starts and that doesn't happen here.
When is this movie really going to start? I’ve been here half an hour.
By Richard Zoglin
December 27, 2023 at 5:45 a.m. EST
It took me a few weeks to get out to see the new Martin Scorsese film, “Killers of the Flower Moon”; the running time of three hours and 26 minutes was pretty daunting. Still, on a recent weeknight, I trekked to my local multiplex in New York City for an 8:30 p.m. showing. Since I knew it would be a long evening, I made sure to arrive a few minutes late, to miss some of the pre-show ads and trailers.
Not late enough. I still had to sit through several minutes of previews and AMC Theatres promotions, before Leonardo DiCaprio finally appeared on the screen. But not in the movie — he was interviewing Scorsese about the historical background of the film, which recounts the organized murders of Osage tribe members in 1920s Oklahoma. After three or four minutes of their gab, the theater finally darkened, and the film seemed ready to start. But wait — there was Scorsese again, addressing the audience to say, once more, how honored he was to “tell this powerful historical story in the most authentic way possible.” By the time the movie dawdled onto the screen, a three-hour-26-minute film had ballooned into a nearly four-hour evening.
Scorsese is one of many filmmakers and critics who have campaigned for seeing movies the old-fashioned way — on the big screen in theaters, rather than through streaming services at home. But I wonder how many of these film lovers (who generally see movies in a comfy screening room, where they start on time and no one has to sit through ads for PlayStation) have actually been to a movie theater lately. It has become a grueling experience.
Set aside the $10 bags of popcorn and the confusing array of projection formats — Imax, 4DX, Dolby — that can boost the ticket price to $25 or more. And I’m not complaining about audience members who talk and scan their cellphones during the movie; complaints about unruly patrons date back to the days when people used to read the title cards aloud in silent films. No, it’s the bloated running times of so many current films and the expanding pre-show folderol that have turned moviegoing into an endurance test.
There once was a time (it now seems quaint to recall) when you had to go to Europe to see commercials in a movie theater; American movie houses were blessedly free of them. Not anymore. On another trip to the multiplex, to see Ridley Scott’s “Napoleon” (which weighs in at a relatively compact two hours and 38 minutes), I counted a dozen commercials, for everything from Hyundai to M&M’s, before the Regal voice of God told us to silence our cellphones and “enjoy the show” — after which came another slew of ads, for various Pepsi drinks; six trailers for upcoming movies (because where better than a screening of “Napoleon” to look for fans of “Drive-Away Dolls” and “Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom”?); and a pitch for the Regal Unlimited subscription plan. Thirty minutes in hard-sell captivity before the movie finally started.
Don’t get me wrong: I love going to the movies. After the pandemic, I returned to the theaters much sooner than most of my friends. But it’s becoming harder to justify that ordeal at the multiplex, rather than waiting a few weeks for the film to show up on Netflix or Amazon Prime.
Watching a movie on the big screen can be absorbing, even thrilling. But it’s not a religious experience. My blood pressure spikes every time I see those platform heels stepping through a puddle on the way to a movie theater — the opening of Nicole Kidman’s inescapable promotional spot for AMC Theatres.
“We come to this place … for magic,” she intones reverently, as she settles into a seat in a deserted theater, stares beatifically up at the screen and rhapsodizes about “that indescribable feeling we get when the lights begin to dim. … Somehow heartbreak feels good in a place like this.” AMC began running the spot two years ago, to encourage people to return to theaters after the pandemic. By now it’s the most grating commercial pitch this side of the Kars4Kids jingle.
By Richard Zoglin
December 27, 2023 at 5:45 a.m. EST
It took me a few weeks to get out to see the new Martin Scorsese film, “Killers of the Flower Moon”; the running time of three hours and 26 minutes was pretty daunting. Still, on a recent weeknight, I trekked to my local multiplex in New York City for an 8:30 p.m. showing. Since I knew it would be a long evening, I made sure to arrive a few minutes late, to miss some of the pre-show ads and trailers.
Not late enough. I still had to sit through several minutes of previews and AMC Theatres promotions, before Leonardo DiCaprio finally appeared on the screen. But not in the movie — he was interviewing Scorsese about the historical background of the film, which recounts the organized murders of Osage tribe members in 1920s Oklahoma. After three or four minutes of their gab, the theater finally darkened, and the film seemed ready to start. But wait — there was Scorsese again, addressing the audience to say, once more, how honored he was to “tell this powerful historical story in the most authentic way possible.” By the time the movie dawdled onto the screen, a three-hour-26-minute film had ballooned into a nearly four-hour evening.
Scorsese is one of many filmmakers and critics who have campaigned for seeing movies the old-fashioned way — on the big screen in theaters, rather than through streaming services at home. But I wonder how many of these film lovers (who generally see movies in a comfy screening room, where they start on time and no one has to sit through ads for PlayStation) have actually been to a movie theater lately. It has become a grueling experience.
Set aside the $10 bags of popcorn and the confusing array of projection formats — Imax, 4DX, Dolby — that can boost the ticket price to $25 or more. And I’m not complaining about audience members who talk and scan their cellphones during the movie; complaints about unruly patrons date back to the days when people used to read the title cards aloud in silent films. No, it’s the bloated running times of so many current films and the expanding pre-show folderol that have turned moviegoing into an endurance test.
There once was a time (it now seems quaint to recall) when you had to go to Europe to see commercials in a movie theater; American movie houses were blessedly free of them. Not anymore. On another trip to the multiplex, to see Ridley Scott’s “Napoleon” (which weighs in at a relatively compact two hours and 38 minutes), I counted a dozen commercials, for everything from Hyundai to M&M’s, before the Regal voice of God told us to silence our cellphones and “enjoy the show” — after which came another slew of ads, for various Pepsi drinks; six trailers for upcoming movies (because where better than a screening of “Napoleon” to look for fans of “Drive-Away Dolls” and “Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom”?); and a pitch for the Regal Unlimited subscription plan. Thirty minutes in hard-sell captivity before the movie finally started.
Don’t get me wrong: I love going to the movies. After the pandemic, I returned to the theaters much sooner than most of my friends. But it’s becoming harder to justify that ordeal at the multiplex, rather than waiting a few weeks for the film to show up on Netflix or Amazon Prime.
Watching a movie on the big screen can be absorbing, even thrilling. But it’s not a religious experience. My blood pressure spikes every time I see those platform heels stepping through a puddle on the way to a movie theater — the opening of Nicole Kidman’s inescapable promotional spot for AMC Theatres.
“We come to this place … for magic,” she intones reverently, as she settles into a seat in a deserted theater, stares beatifically up at the screen and rhapsodizes about “that indescribable feeling we get when the lights begin to dim. … Somehow heartbreak feels good in a place like this.” AMC began running the spot two years ago, to encourage people to return to theaters after the pandemic. By now it’s the most grating commercial pitch this side of the Kars4Kids jingle.
Well, yes, the movie actually started twenty minutes ago.
I guess they're used to theatres that play all kinds of crap before the show starts and that doesn't happen here.
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