Thank You, AMC Showplace

I gotta thank the local megaplex, AMC Showplace in Inver Grove Heights, for reminding me why I hate going to the movie theater. Don’t get me wrong, the movie itself was just fine (I saw Oz the Great and Powerful with my wife, son, brother-in-law and niece). Despite AMC’s attempts to wreck the experience.

We bought a beverage at the concessions stand. I think we got a Sprite. That’s all there is: cola and slushies. So, if you’re looking for something to drink that doesn’t taste shitty, I guess you’ll need to sneak in your own drink. I would have, but my pockets were already full. The Sprite was five dollars, which is a complete ripoff. Not even the “Great” Minnesota Get Together can top that.

So then we walk into the theater room. Now, when I walked into a movie theater as a kid, the screen would just be showing some prototypical screensaver, like a close-up on a lava lamp or moving bars of color. At some point in my teens, megaplexes changed to showing slide-shows of advertisements. That wasn’t as cool as the trippy screensavers, but I understood the theater was probably making some money off selling the space to advertisers, so no harm done, I suppose.

But this past Saturday, when I walked in, I was assaulted with LOUD commercials. So loud it was hard to talk to each other. As someone who mutes the TV at home when a commercial is on, changes the channel on the radio in the car when a commerical is on, and skips past all the bullshit on DVDs, this was truly assaulting to me. I would have covered my ears, except that I’ve kind of figured out that if someone in their 30s does this, people think you’re mentally challenged.

So after ten minutes of this full-on audio bombardment, the lights dim slightly and I am tortured with a video recapping the commercials I just watched. The voice-over said things like, “You were wowed by Justin Bieber’s concert ad, and fell in love with Coke all over again.” Do I even need to comment on how obnoxious that was? If my Sprite hadn’t cost its weight in gold, I might have just launched it at the screen at that point.

Then a commercial for the theater begins. This is akin to a restaurant forcing you watch a commercial about that restaurant before you can eat your meal. It was redundant, too, since the pre-showtime commercials contained an AMC commercial, as well.

So then the previews, right? Wrong. First there were two or three commercials about shit that had nothing to do with movies. Then, finally, a preview. Okay, I’m read-up enough on the world of cinema to know what’s coming down the theatrical pipeline without having to sit through trailers, but I’m willing to give them a pass. At least they’re relevant to my interest (I did come to see a movie, after all), and sometimes, they’re entertaining.

Usually, though, the trailers match the feature presentation, right? I mean, last summer, when Jennifer and I took the kids to see Brave, the trailers were all for animated – or at least kid-friendly – films. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the trailers are good predictors of the feature film you’re about to watch. That is, if the trailers are interesting, or enjoyable, then so will be the movie that’s starting in a few minutes.

But AMC apparently doesn’t subscribe to this policy. There were at least six previews, and three of them dealt with a post-apocalyptic Earth and looking insanely boring. One starred Tom Cruise, so that’s a must-miss right there. There was also a preview for a cinematic adaptation of The Great Gatsby, which looked just as bloated and lousy as the shitty novel I had to pretend to read back in 11th grade. (Disclaimer: I did read about 75% of it, but gave up when I realized I had better things to do with my time. Like stare out the classroom window.)

Okay, then another commercial for AMC. And then…are you ready for this? Another commercial for AMC. These are completely counterproductive, of course, because every minute they delay the film to talk about this very theater just increases the likelihood that I’ll never want to return.

Finally, at 1:36, our 1:15 showing began. This absurd delay made my son anxious (“When is it starting?”) and ensured we were late in returning to our babysitter, who was getting paid by the hour to watch Isla.

I suppose my only other option is to watch a movie for about $1.00 (via Netflix or Redbox), whip up a batch of non-soggy popcorn, pour myself some real tea or craft beer, sit in a comfortable couch, skip past the ads, and watch the movie in the comfort of my own house. I guess I’ll try to make due.