I don't have to tell you that "Schindler's List" is an extraordinary and important film. Unanimous praise and celebration of a multi-award winning cinematic masterpiece should make it abundantly clear what a powerful film it is. To say nothing of Steven Spielberg's remarkable achievement of delivering in the same year the greatest box office hit to date with "Jurassic Park" and then the Academy's best picture and director Oscars. But everyone knows about that already.
I saw this film at a second run cinema in my neighbourhood, which basically sold out each show of "Schindler's List" for the week it was running. When my wife and I entered the theater, there seemed to be only one pair of seats available in the whole place. Only after we sat down did we notice the guy in front of us was proudly brandishing a tall cowboy hat. We figured out quite quickly why our seats were available and thought we ought to explore our options. I very politely leaned forward and asked him if he was going to wear the hat during the show. With a friendly smile, the kind man in his mid-thirties assured us he'd remove it when the picture began. True to his word, he took off the hat when the lights went out.
Rarely have I ever seen a theater audience so transfixed on the images before them. Complete devotion of attention from every patron. Except one. When the "dude" in front of us grew tired of the film, some twenty minutes into it, he attempted making out with his girlfriend who briefly complied but ultimately succeeded in pushing him away. A number of future attempts were met with decreasing levels of success. Clearly the subject matter on screen was far from romantic.
Weeks later, art imitated life on an episode of "Seinfeld" when Jerry's friends and family are outraged at his similar behavior which was a result of having no privacy while his parents stayed with him.
Back to our friend "Howdy Doody", who has failed in his amorous advances during a film about one of the most chilling, harrowing subjects in the history of mankind. When his attention span gave out, and I imagine some five year olds could put him to shame, he rested his head on the back of the seat and stared at the ceiling. He would periodically sigh loudly, a declaration of his utter boredom. Not surprisingly, he drifted away and soon began to snore.
I did nothing of course, and resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to watch the film again. This unfortunate sort of thing is the downside of seeing films in the theater, which I am by and large a huge supporter of in general. You never know what "Buckaroo" you might be sitting behind, but my advice to you is simple. If you ever spot a cowboy hat, relocate.
I saw this film at a second run cinema in my neighbourhood, which basically sold out each show of "Schindler's List" for the week it was running. When my wife and I entered the theater, there seemed to be only one pair of seats available in the whole place. Only after we sat down did we notice the guy in front of us was proudly brandishing a tall cowboy hat. We figured out quite quickly why our seats were available and thought we ought to explore our options. I very politely leaned forward and asked him if he was going to wear the hat during the show. With a friendly smile, the kind man in his mid-thirties assured us he'd remove it when the picture began. True to his word, he took off the hat when the lights went out.
Rarely have I ever seen a theater audience so transfixed on the images before them. Complete devotion of attention from every patron. Except one. When the "dude" in front of us grew tired of the film, some twenty minutes into it, he attempted making out with his girlfriend who briefly complied but ultimately succeeded in pushing him away. A number of future attempts were met with decreasing levels of success. Clearly the subject matter on screen was far from romantic.
Weeks later, art imitated life on an episode of "Seinfeld" when Jerry's friends and family are outraged at his similar behavior which was a result of having no privacy while his parents stayed with him.
Back to our friend "Howdy Doody", who has failed in his amorous advances during a film about one of the most chilling, harrowing subjects in the history of mankind. When his attention span gave out, and I imagine some five year olds could put him to shame, he rested his head on the back of the seat and stared at the ceiling. He would periodically sigh loudly, a declaration of his utter boredom. Not surprisingly, he drifted away and soon began to snore.
I did nothing of course, and resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to watch the film again. This unfortunate sort of thing is the downside of seeing films in the theater, which I am by and large a huge supporter of in general. You never know what "Buckaroo" you might be sitting behind, but my advice to you is simple. If you ever spot a cowboy hat, relocate.