I’m Going To Miss Movie Theaters

The economic impact will be awful. But it’s also not easy saying goodbye to one of life’s little pleasures

The COVID-19 pandemic is affecting society in all kinds of ways, big and small. The last couple of days have been especially dramatic with institutions closing, professional sports events being canceled, and tens of thousands of office employees suddenly forced to work from home. The amount of involuntary social change is a lot to process, as is the worry that these changes may not be temporary.

The news, however, that shook me was the news that big-budget movie releases would be postponed. The latest James Bond movie, No Time To Die, has been pushed back to the fall. F9, the upcoming The Fast & The Furious sequel starring the whole fam, won’t be seen for a year. Disney’s highly-anticipated live-action remake Mulan was just postponed until further notice.

What’s worse, relatively speaking, is, right now, at a theater in Manhattan, there are screenings of Bloodshot, a new Vin Diesel movie based on a comic book about an immortal cyborg assassin. It’s quite obviously a classic. I didn’t go see it because I’m scared. I’m scared of sitting in a movie theater and hearing a wet cough. I’m freaked out over sitting in seats covered in COVID-19, which can survive on surfaces for two-to-three days. And the popcorn. Oh god, the popcorn.

In 1603, the deadly Bubonic Plague forced London to close all of its theaters.

But even with these multi-million dollar feature films sitting on shelves, movie theaters are doomed to close. As I write this right now movie theaters are not being forced to shut-down but one major chain is cutting screenings in half. It’s only a matter of time until they shutter completely. Places where people congregate — churches, theaters, stadiums — are dangerous during a pandemic. It is rational to discourage people from gathering in large crowds where a virus can spread.

In 1603, the deadly Bubonic Plague forced London to close all of its theaters. So it’s not like this is 100% unprecedented. It just hasn’t happened in a minute.

But emotionally? This news is upsetting. I would never diminish a person’s place of worship but movie theaters are where I go to feel safe and that is over for now. I am sympathetic to the people whose jobs are at risk because of this pandemic. I hope the government will provide financial relief to those affected. If movie theaters do shut-down completely I hope they can re-open, later, in the future, when everything has returned to normal (allow me a brief moment of optimism.)

That said, I’m going to miss movie theaters. I have a terrible habit during times of great emotional distress of selfishly focusing on minor inconveniences. I’m not proud of this behavior. Here’s an example: I remember getting really angry that the cafeteria at the hospital where my dad was receiving his chemo treatments had run out of pecan pie.

I know there are worst things than not being able to sit in a chair radioactive with germs to watch a big dumb movie about Vin Diesels large, grapefruit-sized biceps. Losing your job is worse, for one. I have a long list of things to worry about and so do you. But all I want to do is chug a bucket full of butter-flavored oil as cars explode on a giant screen. Bliss.

My movie club — two gentlemen who accompany me, a gentleman, to see new moving pictures — is bereft. We’re just three middle-aged dudes with excellent taste in pop culture who have such witty things to say.

I understand this is the era of streaming. I thoroughly enjoy most of my streaming platforms. One of my self-quarantine plans is to watch and write, about all the classic and foreign films on The Criterion Collection. But, like, I still like sitting with hundreds of other humans. It makes me feel connected to others.

This past summer during the hit movie everyone saw about superheroes, I got gooseflesh when the entire audience erupted into applause when all the hero’s friends showed up to help him fight the bad guy.

Well, I’m going to miss my friends. We text all the time. But last year was tough for me and seeing them on Thursdays at 4 PM — gentleman’s hour — before sitting in the dark together and watching The Rock fight a helicopter was a gift. Every single time.

When I first sobered up, almost ten years ago, I promised myself I could eat as much popcorn as I wanted and I could go and see any movie I wanted, no matter how silly or vacuous. I made the promise for a couple of reasons: one was I didn’t know what to do if I wasn’t drinking. I had spent the prior fourteen years getting obliterated nightly with bar gargoyles. I had friends but nothing ruins a buzz more than hearing “I love you, but you’re killing yourself.”

So going to movies was what I did as I figured out who I was now that my identity had ceased to be “sloppy drunk you can’t count on.”

Eventually, I invited old friends to go to movie theaters with me. I was afraid at the time they wouldn’t want to because of how I had behaved. But every single one of them went with me and taught me how to be a human being again.

I’m not saying movie theaters saved my life. Alcoholics Anonymous meetings saved my life. A cranky therapist from Staten Island who looked like Roger Waters but talked like a low-level gangster saved my life. My girlfriend at the time saved my life. My family was there for me. One old friend went and saw Inception with me twice. The first time, I was shaking.

I have come to depend on them. They’re something I do out in the world.

The next few months are going to be challenging and I know we’re all going to have to make some sacrifices and accept that some things are out of our control. I am struggling to stay in the moment. I need to call home to check-in on the family. I need to finish up some work. I’m probably going to rent the new Nic Cage movie Color Out Of Space on Amazon Prime. It’s a sci-fi horror movie that looks like a bad acid trip.

But I wanted to mourn, just a little, for how things were because I have no idea how things will be, eventually.