A big question I have asked myself over the last year is what film will it take for me to return to the movie theatre - a place that I have missed more than anything else during the hateful pandemic we have had to and continue to live through. Admittedly, I have missed many things - teaching without a mask, concerts, going to the many markets in South Africa where I am a sucker for buying treasures I don’t need, and even the gym. Well, maybe not the gym so much. But movies, the big screen, the surround sound is easily the list topper.
I have loved going to the movies since my parents gave me a quarter to go to the Saturday matinees when I was a kid. It’s a sacred ritual. I buy my ticket, purchase popcorn, find my favorite seat - on the right side aisle slightly more than halfway up - eat all the popcorn during the trailers, and prepare myself to be whisked to other worlds, and other peoples’ plights while sitting on the edge of my seat as protagonists fight monsters and demons, earth’s calamities, and sometimes themselves. Pure, wonderful escapism.
I devoured the Frank Herbert books in the 70s and watched in awe at David Lynch’s adaptation in the 80s. So once Dune hit the theaters in South Africa, I knew it was the one. I didn’t even debate whether I should wait for it on Apple TV or Netflix. Nope, I was going even if I had to double mask, spray sanitizer all over my chair, and forego the popcorn ritual.
I settled into my seat in a mostly empty theatre at an 11:30 showing on a Saturday. While I munched my popcorn, I waited to be transported to Caladan and Arrakis, to spice and worms, and to danger and betrayal. The film lured me into the world of Paul and Jessica, Duncan and Gurney, the Bene Gesserit, and every vile antagonist that any good story needs, as easily as a promise of chocolate to a child who has been denied candy for years. I ate up every delicious moment.
I left the theatre thoroughly sated and thought that finally, my life was returning to some semblance of normalcy.
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