Full confession...
I’d never seen this movie before.
But I recently canceled a bunch of streaming services to be able to fund an AMC Stubs A-List subscription.
“The importance of theaters” and all that.
In order to get my money’s worth, I have to go see at least four movies a month.
So I checked Fandango to see what was showing last Wednesday and I saw that they were playing ‘Back to the Future’ for one night only.
I was hesitant at first.
In my head, the whole “see unlimited movies” spiel is supposed to be put towards new screenings; art house films and maybe even the occasional blockbuster (after it’s been in cinemas for a few weeks, of course. Too many people otherwise.)
At the same time, I’ve been quite pensive as of late for reasons I can’t quite explain (it’s probably the whole “moving to a brand new city knowing only two people” thing) and I’ve wanted something to make me feel unbridled joy.
The other options available to me on this particular day were interesting but didn’t seem to have the potential for joy to be the dominant emotion.
Exhibit: Ken Russell’s ‘The Devils’.
So ‘Back to the Future’ it was.
I walked in and sat down (no popcorn) as a man in the middle of my particular row said something my way.
Once I adjusted to the dimness and drowned out the previews, I understood him to be greeting me; perhaps making a comment about the movie.
He seemed to be there alone, but he was trying to make conversation with me and the guy on his other side.
His feet were up on the rail in front of us.
I still couldn’t quite hear what he was saying.
My seat squeaked every time I shifted my weight, so I got up and moved to the next row behind me.
I hoped that the guy didn’t think I got up because I didn’t want to talk to him, even though that’s exactly what I did.
I told myself I moved because of the squeaking chair.
Eventually, Nicole Kidman invited me to feel good about my heart being broken in a place like this.
I sat with my hoodie strewn across my lap and backpack between my legs as the old universal logo crackled onto the screen.
Of course, it’s impossible to get to be twenty-two and not know the general premise and cultural momentum of this film.
The first 15 minutes are… a lot.
Actually, I take that back...
Crispin Glover is a lot.
I thought I wasn’t going to enjoy it for a second there.
But once Doc showed up on the screen… I. LOCKED. IN.
It was pretty much smooth sailing to that unbridled joy from there.
Marty is perfectly cast and perfectly portrayed. Doc is even more perfectly cast and portrayed.
(Side note - Michael J Fox was 23 when he filmed this movie. Maybe I do have time to be involved with a defining youth-culture phenomenon!)
Very few films draw me in to the point where I feel like I’m one step away from living in them as I watch, but this one did.
I just felt so...
...comfortable…
…for the first time in a long time.
I guess time-capsule Americana is one of the things that just does it for me.
When the credits started to roll, I got up to go to the restroom as any sensible moviegoer does.
While standing at the toilette, a guy came in and followed the unspoken rule of men’s room etiquette, selecting the second urinal to my right—leaving the one in the middle unoccupied.
In my periphery, I could tell that he was wearing a blue hoodie.
He had a diamond piercing as well.
Seemed like the kind of guy I don’t make eye contact with for fear that I’m inconveniencing him somehow.
Eventually, a third gentleman entered the room.
The one who greeted me when I walked into the theater.
He stood at the urinal between myself and the second man:
“You know, I guess ‘Back to the Future’ is one of those movies I’ve seen so many times that I start to notice little new things every time I see it.”
Four seconds passed.
“Oh yeah. Like what?” the blue-hooded guy asked.
“I noticed there’s a bird cage sitting in the living room of the McFly house in the first version of 1985. I’d never noticed that before.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I thought so too!”
About this time, I finished up and went to go wash my hands.
The third gentleman did the same.
As we washed our hands, he asked if I had noticed the bird cage as well.
I told him I’d actually never seen the movie before.
He couldn’t believe it.
I asked him a follow-up question.
I can’t remember what it was about.
He answered while I dried my hands.
I can’t remember what his response was.
He continued to talk about the birdcage as he left the restroom, still speaking, but now, to no one in particular.
You could tell that, in a world that is likely much meaner to him than it is to me, this film brought him unbridled joy as well.
I think Nicole Kidman would call that “movie magic”.
