When I learned that the Fairfax 5 Theatres, in Fairfax, California, was to be installed with a solar photovoltaic system, I immediately thought of that old joke (unfortunately directed towards a certain nationality) about the idiotic invention of a solar-powered flashlight. Movie projectors running on solar-powered electricity? Absurd. Especially since most people go to the movies at night! But, of course, my initial thoughts were just as stupid as the flashlight idea, even if I was merely trying to think of a corresponding joke and all the time actually knew, obviously, that solar energy isn't only useful during the hours that the sun is out.

The second thing I thought of, though, all joking aside, was the possibility of a lowered electricity bill. One of the costliest parts of running a movie theater is all the electricity used for lighting, projection, air conditioning, etc. It's these costs that primarily keep concession prices up, as they're a major part of a cinema's constant overhead. Certainly Cinema West, the company that owns Fairfax 5 Theatres, is thinking about the environmental benefits of solar energy, and their new system is indeed reportedly expected to offset nearly 1,000 tons of greenhouse gases. But surely the cost cutting was a big incentive, too. Over the 30-year life of the system, Cinema West is looking to save more than $627,000.

As an opinionated cinephile, Roger Ebert has every right to dislike 3-D movies. And recently, on his blog, Roger Ebert's Journal, he wrote about such disfavor. Basically, in response to accidentally missing the press screening for the new animated 3-D flick Fly Me to the Moon, he admits that, because of a certain prejudice against the format, he likely wouldn't have enjoyed the movie anyway.

My issue here is not to attack Ebert's opinion or his belief that after half a century of dissatisfaction with the format he's never going to change his mind about it. He's free to express both. And while I disagree and am disappointed, I would never claim that Ebert doesn't know what he's talking about. He's certainly smarter about film than I'll ever be, and his opinions are far more respected than my own.

However, Ebert is also one of the most widely read film critics in the world, and therefore he is a pretty influential person when it comes to the subject of movies. And I would hate for moviegoers to dismiss the new wave of 3-D movies simply because of Ebert's stance on the format. So, I merely intend to respond to his opinion with an opinion of my own, as apparently one of the wider read gushers on the topic of digital 3-D.

Week after week, I focus on the good and/or bad concerning moviegoing and the movie theatre industry. But as passionate as I am about the subjects of this column, I've never really felt strongly enough to label any one person either a hero or a villain to moviegoers. Perhaps the closest I've come to calling someone a hero was when I finally had my first experience with an Alamo Drafthouse cinema. On the other hand, I've certainly wanted to call a lot of people villains, including whoever was responsible for my worst moviegoing experience in years and whoever came up with the awful idea to produce scented pre-show ads.

So, it was by some sort of coincidence that last week actually brought news of both a remarkably heroic moviegoer and a terribly villainous theatre owner. Of course, you're welcome to disagree with me as I celebrate the former and castigate the latter. The interesting thing about these two individuals is that some of you may see my hero as a villain, and vice versa. In fact the law has deemed the former a criminal, and meanwhile tons of moviegoers in the UK are championing the actions of the latter. No wonder film exhibition is in such dire straits when there's such disagreement about how to improve the moviegoing experience.

Moviegoing seems to be living in the past these days, as both 3-D and large format projection have become attractions at mainstream cinemas again, just as they were half a century ago. Of course, there are updated differences -- the new 3-D is digital and now employs glasses that don't give us headaches, and the large format presentation, IMAX (which is actually almost 40 years old and is technically not really similar at all to the Cinemascope, Cinerama, VistaVision, etc., which were used in the 1950s), is finally separating itself from its usual museum-set association to move into more multiplexes and offer more blockbusters, like the popcorns and sodas, appropriately super-sized.

So where is the return of that other, less successful, less fondly remembered novelty also implemented in desperate times to woo audiences away from their television? You know, that ridiculous idea that's so unappealing that it's a wonder it was even allowed to enter public awareness, let alone cement itself undeservedly onto the timeline of significant moments in film history. Smell-O-Vision. Where is the return of Smell-O-Vision?

Behold my 1000-plus words way of asking you this simple question: how many times have you seen The Dark Knight?

Here's a little story I probably tell too often (it's even in my "Meet the Team" bio): Long ago, at an art school that should remain nameless (I hated the place too much to give it any kind of credit), I studied film production, with the crazy notion that I would be the one to bridge the gap between Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino (this was in the mid-90s, when all film students just wanted to be the latter). And while I wasn't any good at being the kind of leader necessary to be a great director, I thought I was on track to (at the very least) become an Oscar-winning screenwriter.

Then, in the middle of my freshman year, I went to see 12 Monkeys. And when it was over, I stayed in the theater and I watched it again. I believe this to be the moment when I decided that I no longer wanted to be a filmmaker and wanted to be a film watcher. But it would take me another year of school -- during which I changed the names in my dream from Spielberg and Tarantino to Gilliam and Hartley -- to realize that I could be a ... professional movie theater employee!

Years more would go by before I actually realized that I was better off writing about the movies than attempting to write for the movies, and fortunately all that time managing multiplexes gave me an extra niche to write about, as well. This week's column, however, despite its long-winded introduction, is not about how I came to write "The Exhibitionist." It's actually more specifically about that repeat screening of 12 Monkeys 12 years ago. Because thanks to The Dark Knight's box office success reportedly linked in part to repeat business, I've been thinking about the few movies that I've actually seen in the theater more than once.

Now that the weekend is nearly over, and you all have seen The Dark Knight multiple times, let me ask you a question: did you sneak your own snacks into the theater? Be honest. I won't get angry. I'll just let out a huge sigh.

Yes, it's time once again to ask the question, only five months after Kim asked it the last time. But it's an issue that I must continue discussing (at least once each busy movie season), because I see it as one of the worst cyclical problems affecting the exhibition industry. Of course, if you commonly do it, you'll no more listen to me now than you've listened in the past. The other day, a very good friend let the world know (via her Facebook status) that she was sneaking snacks into a movie. If I can't get through to those close to me, what's the chance I'll get through to you?

At times, I think my dream vacation involves traveling the world and watching a movie in a theater wherever I stop. But despite the fact that I'm a theater geek (as Erik Davis recently pointed out), I do have other interests, and, surprisingly, moviegoing is not usually my primary objective when I take a trip. I am often curious, though, and occasionally I'll check out a cinema in another land, especially if it's a cinema unlike those I frequent at home (such as the El Cerrito Speakeasy). However, after my visit to a faraway theater this past week, I have an additional reason to consider my dream vacation to be something entirely else: cross-country moviegoing would be really, really depressing.

Because I've never been on a cinema tour, I can't say for sure, but I'm assuming that a lot of neighborhood multiplexes around the U.S. lean toward the side of dissatisfactory moviegoing experiences. Whether a corporate-owned or independent business, there are a lot of reasons that a movie theater may be underwhelming its customers on a frequent basis. Look at the usual complaints from Cinematical commenters: expensive concessions and ticket prices, dirty auditoriums, too many advertisements and ill-mannered audience members are constantly cited as excuses for why people don't go to the movies. But more than all these typical reasons is the worst offense of all: poor exhibition.

This week, I don't want to talk about anything new. I don't want to discuss the good news about studios and European exhibitors finally agreeing on a virtual print fee. I don't want to comment on Nielsen's research showing the strong consumer appetite for 3-D films (I'll be talking enough about 3-D next week in anticipation of Journey to the Center of the Earth). I don't want to even get people's hopes up about Microsoft's supposed "manners device" that silences cell phones instead of blocking them (signal blocking was recently found to be illegal in the U.S.). I really don't want to comment on Mark Gill's "The Sky is Falling" speech from the L.A. Film Festival loosely concerning the state of art house cinema (the speech is more related to film making and financing, plus I already played Chicken Little last week).

As usual, I'm not going to pretend to understand the technologies behind modern home entertainment. And so, before I begin, I'd like to prematurely thank any commenters who choose to weigh in on things such as "selectable output control," "the analog hole" or any other terms I might misuse or incorrectly explain. The only thing I comprehend about those electronic doohickeys in my living room is that they each somehow connect to my antiquated analog television and through the magic of, well, I don't know, I'm able to watch the occasional classic movie and mindless cake design program.

Those familiar with this column should know that I'm not here to necessarily explain how threats to movie theaters work. I'm just here to yell, "the sky is falling!" from within the lobby of the local cinema and hope that you Henny Pennys and Goosey Looseys are listening to my rants and ramblings and at least try to go to the movies more often (and hopefully buy at least one thing at the concession stand). This time, however, I feel even less knowledgeable about the latest threat, and I feel even more fearful that this is the beginning of the end. The cinemapocalypse, if you will.

When was the last time you tried to see a movie, but couldn't, because it was sold out? I mean really sold out. Sure, you may have recently sat in a packed auditorium and watched a movie that was "sold out." And you may have recently been turned away from a specific showtime for some new movie because that one showing was "sold out." These things come with the season, when everyone's rushing to see the latest summer blockbuster as soon as it's released to theaters. But I bet it's been a long, long time since you were shut out completely from seeing a movie on opening weekend.

I experienced two sellouts this week (details forthcoming), and the frustration made me recall an experience from 21 years ago, when Beverly Hills Cop II came out. The reason I remember this specific movie's release is because I was keeping a summer journal at the time. I was only ten, so I didn't write much on each day, but through the opening weekend for BHC2, I repeated the same phrase three times: "Tried to see Beverly Hills Cop II, but it was sold out." Then, through the movie's second weekend, I again repeated the same phrase on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Finally, in its third weekend, I was able to write, "Saw Beverly Hills Cop II. It was good."