Monday
Jul072008
america's last true democracy
Monday, July 7, 2008 at 10:57PM
You wouldn't expect it, but tucked away on the outskirts of Independence, Missouri is one of America's last bastions of democracy, where the voice of an individual can give rise to the shouts of the masses, which can change the very fabric of reality. Yes, that's right, I am speaking of the drive-in.
Pulling into my spot for an ill-advised double feature of Hancock and Zohan (hereafter known as "Zohancock"), I parked, got my car in idle and the radio going and watched the moon rise higher above the screen. People scrabbled on top of their car rooftops, arranged their lawn chairs, got their questionable popcorn and even more questionable corn dogs and prepared for what is known unironically as "movies under the stars."
After a quick preview reel, Hancock began, without a moment of sound. Opening credits and not a single note. So I hit my horn. You can't yell fire in a crowded theatre, you can't even shout out loud in a hardtop theatre, at least not with the expectation of results, but at the drive-in, the horn is the howl of the discontented. And when one begins, others join in. Within 2 minutes, our entire lot was sounding with a chorus of horns, from low, aggressive bleats to high, shrill whines. A million voices crying out at once for justice. We did not care about the other three screens, who were likely getting perfect sound, or wrecking their fun, for we were Americans, and we demanded satisfaction. The projectionist attempted to reframe the movie, and we honked louder to shout out "NO!" and, shortly, satisfaction we got. There's something immensely pleasing about that, even if it is a bit telling in a bad way.
On the other hand, once Zohan started, with perfect sound but a terrible bout of framing, a few of us honked half-heartedly until we realized we were sitting there watching an Adam Sandler "comedy" about the hilarity of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and we just gave up. Even shouty Americans know when to pick their battles and when to give up. And 20 minutes later, starting up my car and driving away from the 4th hummus joke in as many minutes, I was voting with my exhaust.
Pulling into my spot for an ill-advised double feature of Hancock and Zohan (hereafter known as "Zohancock"), I parked, got my car in idle and the radio going and watched the moon rise higher above the screen. People scrabbled on top of their car rooftops, arranged their lawn chairs, got their questionable popcorn and even more questionable corn dogs and prepared for what is known unironically as "movies under the stars."
After a quick preview reel, Hancock began, without a moment of sound. Opening credits and not a single note. So I hit my horn. You can't yell fire in a crowded theatre, you can't even shout out loud in a hardtop theatre, at least not with the expectation of results, but at the drive-in, the horn is the howl of the discontented. And when one begins, others join in. Within 2 minutes, our entire lot was sounding with a chorus of horns, from low, aggressive bleats to high, shrill whines. A million voices crying out at once for justice. We did not care about the other three screens, who were likely getting perfect sound, or wrecking their fun, for we were Americans, and we demanded satisfaction. The projectionist attempted to reframe the movie, and we honked louder to shout out "NO!" and, shortly, satisfaction we got. There's something immensely pleasing about that, even if it is a bit telling in a bad way.
On the other hand, once Zohan started, with perfect sound but a terrible bout of framing, a few of us honked half-heartedly until we realized we were sitting there watching an Adam Sandler "comedy" about the hilarity of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and we just gave up. Even shouty Americans know when to pick their battles and when to give up. And 20 minutes later, starting up my car and driving away from the 4th hummus joke in as many minutes, I was voting with my exhaust.
file under the drive-in
the drive-in
Reader Comments (1)
So you missed the sound of the J. Giles Band’s “Wamma Jamma” that opens Hancock? Damn, that was my favorite thing about the movie.