I went to a movie. It was weird.
The last movie I saw in theaters was a sparsely attended matinee screening of Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal on Sunday, March 15th at the Alamo Drafthouse Ritz. Perhaps this was not the wisest choice of film as it quickly became an omen of the dark times to come. The next day, Death emerged victorious in his chess match with cinema, bringing about the untimely demise of thousands of theaters across the country.
For the past five months, I’ve been eagerly awaiting the day that we can safely return to the movies. Watching films at home is great, but nothing beats the theatrical experience. At the same time, I’ve tried to be very careful during the pandemic and avoid exposing myself to unnecessary risk. Therefore, I was both intrigued and nervous to discover that theaters are slowly reopening in Austin. I read through the safety procedures of all the open theaters and decided that Alamo Drafthouse seemed like the least dangerous place to sit in an air-conditioned room with strangers for two hours. You can read their COVID protocols here.
Before entering the building, each guest is shot in the forehead with a thermometer gun, which, according to the New York Times, is “notoriously not accurate.” Anyone with a fever is turned away and given a full refund. Each group of tickets is separated by two empty seats on each side, which is almost certainly less than six feet, but it’s close. Everyone is required to wear a mask except when eating and drinking.
The other major change is that all food and drinks must be purchased ahead of time. Waiters do not take orders during the movie. I actually prefer this setup. The one bad thing about Alamo Drafthouse is being interrupted by a waiter in the middle of an important scene. No, I don’t need anything else right now. That’s what the fucking order cards are for.
I decided to risk going to a movie if I could find a fairly empty screening with ample space between me and the other attendees. After perusing available showtimes, I landed on a 3:10pm Friday screening at Alamo’s Slaughter Lane location. There were only seven people in the theater, I had the entire first row to myself, and the closest person was about fifteen feet away.
While far from the safest decision I’ve made during the pandemic, it seemed like an acceptable level of risk. Along with my ticket, I purchased a can of Stone IPA. Despite its name, Alamo has stopped serving draft beer as part of its COVID policies. I doubt this actually makes anyone safer, but at least they’re being overly cautious.
The movie was a mediocre thriller aptly titled Unhinged. I don’t know if you could pick a better name for the first film to reopen theaters in the chaotic dystopia in which we currently find ourselves. A shockingly obese Russell Crowe stars as a psychotic maniac gleefully indulging in a violent killing spree incited by a minor traffic incident. So you know, Russell Crowe being Russell Crowe.
The film had some tense moments but was mostly uninteresting. Crowe was solid, but the rest of the cast was pretty weak. Director Derrick Borte briefly touches on American economic issues that can push working class people past their breaking point, but he quickly loses interest in this dynamic and fails to explore it beyond a cursory acknowledgment.
While Alamo allows customers to remove their masks once seated, I elected to leave mine on for the entirety of the film, only lowering it briefly for a quick sip of beer before immediately returning it to my face. As I sat there stewing in my own breath, I grew apprehensive, not from the movie’s incredibly predictable plot points, but from the viral risk under which I had willingly placed myself. As soon as the credits rolled, I got out of the theater as fast as possible, only to discover that I dropped my keys in my seat and had to go back in.
Overall, it was a weird experience. I loved being back at a movie theater, but the risk of contracting COVID kept me anxious the whole time, and I was unable to fully relax. A better film may have allowed me to get lost in the story and forget my pandemic concerns, but Unhinged was not that film. I’m interested to see how this goes. Given the ups and downs that we’ve seen so far with businesses closing and opening depending on case counts and government mandates, I’m guessing it will be a rocky transition back to normal.
Right now, I don’t think I’d feel comfortable attending a sold-out weekend screening of Tenet, but I’ll probably be back at the movies sooner rather than later, targeting mostly vacant screenings at off-peak hours. This might be a short-sighted decision in my own chess match with Death, but at least it makes the game more fun.
Michael Dixon is a mild mannered accountant by day and a mild mannered movie watcher by night. He will not do your taxes for you. He lives in Austin, Texas with his lovely television and collection of fine whiskies. He’s currently debating whether going to the movies is a reasonably safe activity that’s necessary for his mental and emotional health or if he’s a huge asshole for potentially aiding the spread of a deadly virus. Please drop your hot takes in the comments. You can’t purchase his book anywhere because it doesn’t exist.
