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The line was so long as we kids stood with our dad waiting to see the four Brits from Liverpool sing and swing their way through “Help!” that it spilled out through the theater doors onto the broad concrete entrance to the Capital Theater, around the corner and down Main Street.  We didn’t mind.  Once you purchased your ticket at the window and passed through the heavy, brass-plated doors, you were awash with a super-cooled, air-conditioned breeze.  Surrounded by red velvet, the atmosphere thick with the aroma of popcorn and melted butter, you entered the theater proper, hesitated as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then sidestepped your way into the seat, ready to embark on an audio visual adventure.  These are early memories of going to “the movies” as we called it.

The 60s were movies in their heyday.  Technology had finally seamlessly blended moving picture, sound, technical effects and lighting to the point that a movie was more than just an escape.  It could transport you to another place and time…for an hour and thirty minutes.

Why was going to the movie theater such an important part of our youth?  Movie theaters still post on their signs “It’s Cool Inside” for the summer weary, perhaps still relevant to those of us who are thermally challenged due to our current position on the life continuum.  Certainly the movies were an escape—a place to go with friends, a place to take a date.  Drive-ins were big in the 50s and 60s, with the best dates steaming up windows, and the film interrupted periodically by dancing hot dogs and sodas to lure you to the refreshment stand.  One of my first drive-in memories was Jane Fonda as the beautiful and sexy Barbarella (Terry Southern, Paramount, 1968).  Elvis was a popular drive-in draw, and we can all recall the flicker of light the giant outdoor screen cast on farmland as you drove by, looking back to catch a glimpse of whatever was on tonight.

Movies of the 60s brought us closer to the starts we loved or ached for…like the Beatles.  They introduced us to an artificial adrenaline rush with war sagas and outer space adventures.  They took us to the border of risqué as they explored forbidden topics in such films as The Graduate (Charles Webb, Willingham and Henry screenplay, Embassy Pictures and United Artists, 1967), or introduced us to characters like James Bond’s early conquest, Pussy Galore (Ian Fleming).  You may have had to drag along your little brother or sister to see the re-emergence of romance in Love Story (Eric Segal, Paramount, 1970) where we learned we never have to say we’re sorry, and Romeo showed us our first mainstreamed bare butt (Shakespeare, no less, Paramount, 1968).

How have movies evolved in our lifetime?  One of the reasons we were sure to be in line was that missing a movie at the theater meant waiting maybe a couple of years to see it on network TV.  Today some movies skip the theater entirely, and go straight to video.  There is almost no reason to go out to the theater, when we can have movies sent directly to our mailbox, or watch them streaming on our computer or phone.  The evolution of the medium has been explosive….first, a trip to the theater…next step, rental of a player (beta or VHS?) and tape, then the purchase of your own player, the emergence of the DVD, and now many homes are built with home theaters on the list of “must haves,” complete with Dolby sound systems and individual reclining chairs. 

So what are we missing?  The scent of the butter?  The rush from sneaking a kiss or a “feel” with your date in the balcony?  A group of people all jumping or screaming together at a scary moment?  How something funny becomes totally hilarious when a room full of people laughs together?

Tell us what you think in the comment box below:

Do you miss the theater experience?

What is your favorite movie memory?