A long time ago (in a galaxy not far away), an eleven-year-old walked into the Moorestown Mall to join the over one-hundred-plus people in line to see that summer’s uber-blockbuster. This was an “event”; these people were lined up and waiting, like general admission for a Who concert, because they knew they were going to witness a true spectacle (it also helped that it was the sequel to the highest-grossing film at that time).
After joining the gathering throng, whose growing number now snaked past Woolworth’s and into the center of the Mall, the line slowly began moving. The time was nigh. He and his brothers, having spent what must have been about nine dollars total for their three tickets, now entered the huge theatre (with one giant screen) to witness the cinematic opera of the eternal battle between good and evil. The excitement was palpable as the lights dimmed. The year was 1980; the movie was “The Empire Strikes Back”, and everyone learned it’s nice to know who your father is.
Flash-forward thirty-four years. This eleven-year old is now forty-five (more learned, less curious- think Of Mice and Men’s George with a better haircut and a couple of bucks in his pocket). As he walks to the theatre, he sees the line for one of this summer’s blockbusters has all but vanished. That “one giant screen” has been cut up into eight “postage stamp-sized” screens. He buys his ticket, which would have paid for both of his two brothers’ admittance in the day, and enters the theatre, where the throng is already assembled and waiting. The only thing palpable as the lights dim (after ten-minutes of commercials for the Toyota Camry, the Marines, movietickets.com, and Coca-Cola) is the feeling of dread that this won’t be a true spectacle or a cinematic opera. This may just be a way to beat the heat and see the dazzling advances they’ve made in computer-generated images.
Certainly times have changed, but one thing that hasn’t is the pure, pleasurable, “check-your-brain-at-the-door” feeling that only a summer blockbuster can bring. A true bubble-gum movie, where the only people who should be thinking in that theatre are up there on the screen, doing the ultimate dog-and-pony show just for you. Sure, they can be formula plot-wise, but that doesn’t make them any less memorable. Ones that spring to mind:
- June, 1982: Rocky 3 (ERIC Pennsauken): Rocky (Sylvester Stallone) kicking Clubber Lang (Mr. T)’s butt; Mickey (Burgess Meredith)’s death scene; Rocky spewing “Yo” and windmill left-hooks in equal measure.
- July, 1986: Aliens (Marlton 8): Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) kicking Alien butt; Ripley battling the Queen Alien in a form-fitting forklift; the Queen’s screaming face as she is jettisoned out of the airlock, the spacedock spewing debris and loading dock equipment in equal measure.
- July, 1988: Die Hard (Atco Drive-In): John McClane (Bruce Willis) kicking German butt; the Nakatomi Plaza building being blown to hell; Hans (Alan Rickman)’s face as he falls from the building, which is spewing flames and Bearer Bonds in equal measure.
- August, 1990: Exorcist 3 (Marlton 8): Lt. Kinderman (George C. Scott) kicking Satanic butt; Kinderman confronting the possessed Gemini Killer/Father Damien in a padded asylum cell; Father Damien (Jason Miller)’s face as he spews Satan and his immortal soul from his body in equal measure.
Recently, one of the biggest changes I find in summer movies is the longer running times. For the majority of the big series franchises (Star Wars, James Bond, Indiana Jones, Star Trek, etc.), a little over two hours was plenty. Two hours, ten minutes max (including credits). Now, we’re staring two-and-a-half hours in the face when we walk in (not including the fifteen minutes of previews or the film’s credits).
Maybe I’m just a bitter old man. Maybe I can’t sit still that long anymore. Maybe these new-and improved summer movies need the extra twenty-or-so-odd minutes to expound upon their complex plot lines…..
Well, you get the idea.