popcorn Tagged Articles at Cinematical

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?

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?

There's an interesting article over at This is London about a man who's protesting high prices at theater concession stands by handing out free snacks and a flier comparing cinema prices for snacks to store prices. Adam Glennon, a postman, was told he had to leave the theater for bringing his own snacks in.

Glennon says his snack stash was discovered when a security guard demanded to know what was in the plastic bag he was carrying into a screening of Cloverfield. The guard says that they routinely search bags for recording equipment, but if they happen to discover a stash of snacks in the process, they enforce the cinema's policy of "no outside food or drinks," and make movie-goers throw out their contraband munchies or leave the theater (they do give patrons who refuse a refund for their ticket price).

In the recent documentary King Corn, two guys discover that their hair is made up of carbon originating from corn. From there, they find out that nearly everything they digest, from beef to soda, consists of corn (molecules). But while watching the film, I thought about my own diet. Even if almost all of American food and drink didn't contain traces of corn, my hair would still be made up of the stuff. Why? Because I am a popcorn junkie.

I'm not the only fan of popcorn, but I doubt anybody loves it as much as I do. While working in movie theaters for ten years, I couldn't stop eating the stuff. And I got to eat it all day long for free, so I was often a happy employee. Now that I pay to go to the movies again, I also pay for popcorn. When I watch a movie at home, I make it on the stove. I even prefer the neighborhood bars that offer free baskets of the stuff.

My only wonder about my love is this: where did it come from? Did I grow up loving popcorn because I grew up loving the movies? Or did I grow up loving the movies because I grew up loving popcorn? I'm sure that the snack would still be consumed were it not for movies, but it's certainly possible that we eat more of it thanks to it's being the main staple of cinemas for almost a hundred years. Even when people stopped going to the movies so much, they still wanted corn with their show -- it's just serendipitous how home video and microwave popcorn came around about the same time.