The One Night I Was Lucky Enough to Have the Theater to Myself

Late on the evening of July 2, 2009, I had one of the best experiences in my life going to the movies. Without straying too far into hyperbole it was a phenomenal, transcendent, seminal film experience. The movie was Up from Pixar Studios and while the movie itself was wonderful, joyous and uplifting, the reason it was such a magical experience was that I had the movie theater all to myself. Be warned there are spoilers ahead.

Let me set the stage...

I went on a whim after my wife suggested I go.  There was barely enough time for me to get to the theater for the 11:05 showing that Thursday night. I had my fruit snacks and wheat thins in my pockets as I walked up to the ticket counter and said, “One for Up please.” The girl behind the glass asked me if I was a student to which I replied, no. She then asked "would you like to be?" to which I replied, "Yes". Eight dollars and fifty cents later and I was on my way inside. 

It was 11:10 by this time but I wasn’t worried about missing these previews so I didn’t feel the need to rush into the theater. I got a small Mr. Pibb from the concession counter and headed upstairs to my theater. As I walked in I heard a preview running, so I was happy because  I hadn’t missed the beginning of the film. I rounded the corner and looked for a seat. A smile began to grow on my face. “No way,” I said to myself. The entire theater was empty. 

I have NEVER had the privilege to see a film in a theater by myself. I’ve been in maybe 6 or 7 films with two or three people and even more with 5 or 6 but never the whole theater to myself. During those films with minimal other people in attendance, I had always wished to be in the theater by myself and wondered what it would actually be like to have my own personal theater. The biggest desire in this fantasy is not having to oblige the social conventions that go with seeing a movie in public. No talking, no texting, no loud noises, no annoying movements or anything else that would disrupt the spell of the cinema for another viewer. I take these social graces very seriously when I am seeing a film and appreciate when others have the same respect for my theater experience that I have for theirs. As anyone who has ever been to a movie will atest, this is usually not the case. Thus, the real joy of having the theater to oneself is not having to deal with anyone else's noise, idiosyncrasies, or cell phones. That and the feeling that you have the world's largest home entertainment system at your disposal. :) 

I sat down in the exact middle of the theater, measuring based on where the projector was streaming light onto the screen. I sat down and hoped beyond hope that no one else would walk in. As the preview for The Princess and the Frog ended and the theater logo came up, I had this wonderful knowing feeling that it was finally going to happen. I would finally have a theater to myself. This feeling was so gratifying and wonderful that as the Disney logo came up, that castle with the fireworks behind it, a logo that has meant so much to so many children, I felt compelled to stand. I stood up from my seat and watched with a feeling of childlike glee as the intro played. I stood up because I could. There were no social conventions to be observed here.I was on my own. Bliss. Utter bliss.

Then the film started. Like all Pixar movies it was preceded by a short film, this one called Partly Cloudy. A very cute little short but not overwhelmingly great. Then the film started. Pixar and the creative braintrust there have placed themselves as the master storytellers of our generation because they take what has worked before and twist it ever so slightly to suit the new story they are telling. In this case the introductory newsreel footage and story of Charles Muntz harkens back to Citizen Kane and the introduction of Welles' titular titan. It was brilliantly executed and well done. 

After little Carl meets little Ellie and he breaks his arm the next part that swept me away was the greatest montage I have ever seen in a children’s film (perhaps all of film?), showing their entire lives and their goals, failures, and great sadness. It is a nearly impossible task in a children's film to show that a woman can’t have a baby...without words but all Pixar needed was three quick scenes. A shot of Ellie wanting children, a shot of her crying in the doctor’s office with a poster that said “Your Body” behind her and a shot of her looking wistful and despondent alone in her yard. The three scenes start at 1:08 in the video below:

Heartbreaking and brilliant. I'm getting teary-eyed just remembering it. The montage concluded with a moment I knew was coming but it didn’t make it any less poignant. Ellie’s death. Very powerful because we saw the life they had together and how happy they were and how sad Carl was that she was gone. I cried. Not huge crying but tears spilled out of my eyes, hot and fast. I immediately loved this movie.

I’m not going to do a blow by blow of the entire film but just mention the parts that I found extremely moving or noteworthy.

Doug, the talking dog, was awesome. He reminded me a lot of my old dog Max (best dog ever in the history of time). I really identified with how Pixar wrote his character as being everything that is characteristic and lovable about dogs. The fact that Doug instantly loves Carl and calls him his new master, “Squirrel!” and just everything he did was spot on perfect. Skip way ahead to the moment when Carl turns selfish and yells at Doug for being a bad dog. The look on Doug’s face was perhaps the most realistic animation I've ever seen. They captured emotion perfectly through animation. Truly amazing and another heartbreaking moment. 

Then came another beautiful Pixar visual storytelling device. After Carl has given up Kevin (the giant, rare bird), told Doug he’s a bad dog and ostracized Russell he finally completes his dream and sets the house down next to Paradise Falls. He then goes inside the house to find everything broken. Even when he cleans up the mess there’s still broken bits and pieces of stuff lying around, showing that his dream, even though it is now complete, is a broken dream. I let a few tears go here also.

Then when he decides to go after Kevin and Russell, Doug knocks on his door and says, “I was hiding under your porch because I love you.” I started to instantly well up and then Carl says something like, “Of course you can come in you’re my dog aren’t you?” I lost it. Doug was so happy, the music swelled upwards and they were off on a mission. Oh, it was an amazing moment.

At the end of the film, Russell is getting his badge to complete his sash. Carl stands in for his dad (who is never there) and gives him the soda cap (the Ellie badge) and I teared up again. Just great moment after great moment. The film ended on the perfect image of the house right next to Paradise Falls just like in the drawing Ellie made when she was a kid. The credits came up, I took a deep breath and started to get up but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to absorb every moment of this experience knowing I might never get a theater to myself again (to this point I haven't, though I saw Les Miserables with only two other people in the cinema). I watched the entire credit reel, which was full of little injokes, references to filmmaking and even Pixar itself so  even the credits were enjoyable. 

After the credits ended, I walked out of the theater glowing. It was truly one of the best experiences I’ve ever had going to the movies. While the film certainly had a large part to play in my experience, it was being able to view the film without worrying about interruptions and in a place where my emotions (which were very clearly on full display) could come out without any embarrassment. To be able to have that kind of intimate experience with a film, while simultaneous enjoying the massive screen and booming surround sound, was a night at the movies that I will never forget.