The known movie. A vacant evening. The movie theater.
The urge to be punctual is defined by the desire of doing something complete.The experience needs to be wholesome .
This is in an age touched by the multiplex and the mall having inhouse theater complexes.This is not the time of the single screen theatre. The single screen theatre is the real satisfying movie experience. It entails no choices, no eating, no lazing, no hanging out, no people-watching, no elevator climbing, no frilly conversations conducted in a lazy drawl on an anonymous chair under fancy lights. IT is focused. It is a single unadulterated way of drowning into an imaginary world.
We drive into the arena and are owned by the space. We have to pay to be owned. But it feels grand .Like paying to be at the colosseum,paying for a performance that has the potential of changing our lives. This is one of the last vestiges of the pure experience we have pilfered out from the hordes of multiplexes.
The movie is Gladiator. Since the intention was generated before the arrival into the theater, our stomachs were full and hands empty, devoid of the trappings of popcorn, chips or samosas that shall pass our time till the actual thing.
One thing I have noticed about a movie theater before a screening takes place is the hushed tones, the low voices, afraid to wake up the sleeping giant that shall jump into our lives and take control of it.
The semi- darkness lulls people into a sense of subconscious fear, awe, silence.
It is like the little child pulling his blanket over him before his dreams take him to unknown lands, anticipating the absurdness of situations,the semi reality or extra reality of it, the chance that it could be virtually anything that he may see ,any place that he may be in, any time .He is ready to accept any situation , any dream for what it is , a pure gift that cannot be scathed with one’s own imagination but taken as it comes.
So are we.We sit on the seats searching for a comfortable position , since we forget the nature of our bodies , of its movements , its needs once the reel begins its journey and wish to be comfortably held till the end. Already the semi darkness has made the world around us anonymous, smeared their faces with darkness so that we cannot feel guilty to selfishly drown ourselves into this self contained realm of the movie. Is it a guilt that emerges due to the feeling of voyeurism, the dirty peeping into other people’s lives,
or that leisure is a sin , or that we have trespassed into another territory , not our own .
IS it not guilt at all? What is it about this darkness that lulls us into a sense of security that seems to allow this indulgence?
The fans start whirring , an irritating push into our own homes . We look around to make sure there are other people with us in this escapade. Having made our silent observations we sit back to enjoy the “Gladiator”
The old man Caesar at a certain point says,” Come now, let us whisper as friends in this winter darkness “and we are left pining for a cool blast of air in our faces , a slight shiver that will envelop us in its entirety. The colloseum is just light particles reflected off a wall , yet why can we almost smell its dust and blood?
The interval is an unwelcome break yet pacifying , as it lets us back into this real world assuring us that we shall be back again and not be forever lost in this ancient magnificence.
And as I emerge from this spectacle that I lived in with eyes wide open , I am thrown either into the blazing sun or the coarse night. Now these two elicit different responses from me. The blazing sun almost pushes me back, just as it is difficult to accept the morning after a snuggly sleep, and whacky dreams. It is a rude reminder of one’s life and its reality.But the darkness is something else. It is an attempt not to let the vision go , to travel home in this daze , yearning to still be in this dream so I can take it home into my bed and sleep with it , churn it into my own life , my own dreams.Frantically hold onto that thin thread that connects that vision inside with the external world- darkness , semi –darkness, silence, losing oneself in an image.The world around me glows with a romantic sheen, the wet, grey tar resembles the gritty fields of Germania, with packed mud.
Nothing should break this fragile eggshell realm of disbelief of the real. And so I refrain from saying a word, wait till I am sleeping and then only release myself into the calm void.
a protest ,