Unadulterated Signs of Impending Authoritarianism, or A Day at the Movies

Many moons ago, I lived overseas underneath a military dictatorship. Rights were repressed and freedom of speech was halted. The media was controlled and many of the nation’s people lived in fear, remembering all too keenly the coup that had preceded it.

One needed to be careful what was said as any form of protest was “discouraged” if not inherently illegal and punished “appropriately.” An authoritarian regime with strict order was designed specifically to outlaw dissent and ensure growth of a healthy economy.

Well, my friends, I fear these structures have also been in place in America for longer than we care to admit.

I refer not to the string of late-night talk show hosts who have been pulled from the air but rather a far more dangerous set of rules that took place long before Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel were, at least temporarily, silenced.

I refer, of course, to seating charts at your local movie theaters.

We all remember going to the movies as kids, waiting for the latest release of our favorite movie star. Comedies, thrillers, courtroom dramas, sci-fi, long before COVID hit, we collectively as a nation, would make plans to hit the theaters, wait in line, grab our popcorn and Jujy Fruits and stare up at the screen in awe, waiting to be taken to another world.

Afterwards, we’d talk about the film’s meaning, whether we’d enjoyed it and inevitably compare it to others in the genre. Think about how many movies you specifically remember seeing in the theater, how it felt and with whom you went. To this day, I recall my Aunt Priscilla taking me to see Jaws, at only six years old. I had my head buried in her lap the entire time, only to look up in an untimely manner to see poor Robert Shaw bitten in half by a giant shark. I still, if only slightly, fear swimming in the ocean. This was no boating accident.

But I bet you none of the fond memories you have from movie going past contain your seating assignment.

That’s correct, people, ever since I’m not sure when, as you pay for a movie ticket, you’re asked one inane question upon purchase: your designated seat.

As if this were homeroom, your teacher sticking you in a particular place from which you may not budge, you must now choose the form of your destructor. E13. Bingo! God forbid you sit anywhere else and start a fracas during the previews. It’s not a sporting event. This is no concert hall. It’s a friggin’ movie theater so why all the rules?

I work weekends and have for years, so I can’t tell you if movie theaters are crowded on Friday and Saturday nights, but I have gone to countless screenings on Thursdays and Sundays and can assure you that movie theaters are no longer as packed as they once were. After COVID, we’d wondered whether cinema would even survive.

If you don’t believe me, look at AMC’s stock history, not the only one hard hit during the epidemic. After COVID, AMC’s stock sold for as high as $600 a share. You can now buy AMC for $3. Streaming services have entirely altered the way we view films, a night out at the theater no longer carries the thrill despite Hollywood’s continued efforts to get us out of our living rooms. You try taking a family of six to the movies and see if you don’t need to take out a second mortgage.

Certain rules, I view frivolously. I jaywalk as if it’s a bad habit, I’m pretty sure I don’t come to complete stops at every stop sign, I rarely floss and I sure as shit don’t sit in my assigned seat at the movie theater.

BCole and I went to a double feature the other week to see the Spinal Tap sequel and long-awaited theatrical release of Stephen King’s 80s short, The Long Walk. Even though she asked me which were our seats, I neglected to answer, rebelliously replying “Anywhere, it doesn’t matter.” Already reeking of popcorn and chocolate, I plopped down into two seats they hadn’t assigned to us. She knew it might cause a problem. She’s far better with structure than I am.

That was when, minutes later, a single man entered our row, previews still on, my popcorn bucket already half empty and our belongings placed comfortably in our laps. We had set up camp and were ready for the main attraction. He pointed to our seats. There was literally no one else in the theater at the time, entire rows in front of us and behind, all vacant.

He pointed, suggesting that we move over, the order in his world suddenly shaken. Silence, lamb! We slowly started gathering our goodies when he walked off in a huff and sat in a seat in the row directly in front of us, his own form of bridled protest.

While I understand that without rules, there is anarchy, perhaps we should be allowed to determine which rules to follow and which are, say, morally questionable. Or maybe deep down in places we don’t talk about at parties, we want assigned movie theater seating, we need assigned movie theater seating, and that’s a truth we cannot handle.