Written in Ink

Fuck You: Movie Theatres

Wherein I decided just now to have a semi—regular feature where I say a hearty "Fuck You!" to legitimate targets of my "Fuck You"edness. Let me know if you would like this feature I instantly made up to continue. It'll be like Andy Rooney griping, but with more swearing.

Entry 1: Movie theatres and their un-cinephile commercial reasons for limiting a good movie's run.


I was looking forward to seeing the Roger Ebert doc, Life Itself. I only have one independent/art house theatre in my area, and I have to drive about ten minutes to another city to see that, even though I live in L.A (because the central planners who designed the city were drunk that day). So when the movie opened there two weeks ago, I knew I was risking it by not going that weekend. Then I knew I was further risking it by not going last weekend, when it still was on. I thought everybody loved Roger Ebert, and so the film playing at that only location, servicing four cities, really, would attract enough people to keep it going for a while. But, nope. I look up the theatre's page and the movie's gone. Now, if I want to see it, I'll have to drive 25 miles on the freeways to an area I don't even know (did I mention L.A is huge and has no central plan?). And yet, Earth to Echo and Maleficent are playing at multiple different theatre chains around me. One is even playing Dinesh D'Souza's America. At least Boyhood is playing at my regular art house. I better see that this weekend, or else I might miss it.

So a big fuck you to the state of the movie industry—studio and distribution—for this shitty state of affairs.

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