One of the things that influences me so strongly when I actually leave the house to watch a movie in the theater is the experience of being at the theatre itself. And I don’t just mean the chatting, popcorn chewing, unclean masses with whom you are forced to share oxygen, either.
I mean the actual physical experience. What it looks like when you are driving there, thinking about the movie you are about to watch. What it feels like when you are inside the room, when you are inside your chair.
And especially what it feels like when you leave.
In fact, one of the most disastrous parts of going to see a movie in the theatre (which I generally loathe, if you haven’t guessed) is the way the mood is utterly shattered when you exit the place, when you walk though neon-lit exit doors that are hung with wide, metallic panic bars and festooned with the ghosts of chewing gum past.
And then you walk outside, into a vast modern parking lot, filled with SUVs and bored teenagers.
Since most of what I watch, when I am actually lured out of my hermit cave to watch a movie in the theater, involves men in cravats and ladies in tight corsets, I find this experience to be extremely jarring.
The north side of Dennis on Cape Cod in late winter/early spring is just so barren, so bleak, so grey and lifeless…
It really does it for me.
This is what it looked like, today, April 8, on the grounds of the Cape Cinema in Dennis, where I have now watched Jane Eyre four times in the space of one week.
It might help you to understand my particular brand of madness to know that this is practically my favorite series of landscape photographs I have ever taken, and that this is pretty much my ideal kind of landscape.
All that’s lacking is the moors.