I love movies in a serious way. Or at least, I used to. I would get drawn in by the entire experience — the popcorn smell wafting through the lobby, the sticky floors, the darkness encompassing you as you got lost in a great story. I could usually get lost in a bad story, too, but I truly appreciate a well-written tale.
A few years ago all that started to change. More people talked during the movie. Some took phone calls. Others texted, their blue screens pulling me out of the story and reminding me that I was in a sea of rude people.
For awhile I tailored my movie-going to theaters that had more civilized customers. Going on a weekday also limited my exposure to people who brought a four year-old to an R-rated movie at 10:30pm. Eventually my Netflix queue grew, and my trips to the movie theater shrank.
Now that I have the boys, I’m frankly too exhausted and too busy to devote two hours to a movie. I want to. I wish to. More often than not, sleep or laundry or work email claims the little free time I have between the kids’ bedtime and my collapse into bed. But tonight was different! I finally got to see the remake of True Grit, and it was a great movie. I stayed awake and enjoyed it all — the acting, the writing, the cinematography — all my old friends.
My Netflix queue has changed, too. It’s now more Blue’s Clues and less Downton Abbey. But tonight’s foray into a solid grownup movie won’t be the last. I’ve just added some intriguing titles, and they’re waiting patiently for me amidst the cartoons and Muppets.