I get paid to write a monthly column that appears in a local paper on the subject of movies. While I don't claim to be a bona fide film critic, I am at the very least what might be called a movie buff. And I know what I like and say so with flair, so all in all the publisher is getting his fifty bucks worth, in case you wondered. The thing is, I have to be serious and tackle the subject in a way that is thoughtful and thought-provoking for an adult readership, and sometimes that's a drag.
It's much more fun to write this blog and say whatever I want about whatever I want, and be silly about it if I'm in a silly mood. What I wish I could write about is movie candy, and popcorn, and nowadays the full-blown lunch counter found at most theaters, complete with tacos and nachos and hot dogs and French fries, enabling our already fat citizenry to not only sit on their butts for two hours or more without moving a muscle but also stuff their faces with empty calories while so doing. It's a travesty.
How did the tradition of eating popcorn while watching a movie even get started? A little research revealed that the habit first began around the time of the Great Depression, and was further fueled by World War Two. I guess the combination of being dead broke and being seriously bummed out and possibly even missing a limb or two made enjoying an inexpensive snack while escaping to a world of fantasy wildly appealing. According to Smithsonian Magazine, "By 1945, popcorn and the movies were inextricably bound: over half of the popcorn consumed in America was eaten at the movie theaters."
I no longer indulge in movie popcorn, having mastered the art of popping my own. The movie stuff tastes pretty grim after you've enjoyed some Jolly Time, white-hulled, home-popped. Sadly, unless you go armed with a really big handbag or wear a puffy overcoat with deep pockets, it's impossible to smuggle in your own, and most theaters ban any outside food. This is too bad, as at least you'd be getting something healthy instead of the typical lard-and-salt-infused yellow corn that's more often than not stale anyway, and these days is no longer inexpensive. It often costs as much as your ticket, if not more for the popular jumbo size. (See photo.)
It's much more fun to write this blog and say whatever I want about whatever I want, and be silly about it if I'm in a silly mood. What I wish I could write about is movie candy, and popcorn, and nowadays the full-blown lunch counter found at most theaters, complete with tacos and nachos and hot dogs and French fries, enabling our already fat citizenry to not only sit on their butts for two hours or more without moving a muscle but also stuff their faces with empty calories while so doing. It's a travesty.
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| Boy with his popcorn! |
I no longer indulge in movie popcorn, having mastered the art of popping my own. The movie stuff tastes pretty grim after you've enjoyed some Jolly Time, white-hulled, home-popped. Sadly, unless you go armed with a really big handbag or wear a puffy overcoat with deep pockets, it's impossible to smuggle in your own, and most theaters ban any outside food. This is too bad, as at least you'd be getting something healthy instead of the typical lard-and-salt-infused yellow corn that's more often than not stale anyway, and these days is no longer inexpensive. It often costs as much as your ticket, if not more for the popular jumbo size. (See photo.)
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