It’S Hardly A Regal Experience

Assaulted by Sunday’s frigid wind and pelting rain, I burrowed deep into my parka while standing in line outside the Spokane Valley Cinemas. I amused myself by listening to a couple of women give voice to what seems to be a common complaint.

“Isn’t this ridiculous?” one said. “Brand-new theaters and we have to stand in this weather to buy tickets.”

“What I want to know is why can’t we get into the theater directly from the mall?” her companion added.

Good question.

But that’s not the beginning of this story.

For that, let’s go back to the previous Friday. To Christmas Day, where another long line of moviegoers braved the blowing snow to see such movies as “Patch Adams,” “Stepmom,” “You’ve Got Mail” and more.

Let’s skip over the cold weather and wet feet, the effects of which would stay with some of us for the next two hours. Let’s skip past the painfully confused crush around the box-office windows and over the struggles of minimum-wage workers who - in most cases - were trying their best to put a polite face on the thankless job of having to service a demanding movie public on a miserable Christmas afternoon.

No, let’s go right to one particular movie screen, one of 12 boasted by this flagship theater of Regal Cinemas’ Spokane-area conglomerate, where the film “Shakespeare in Love” is scheduled to play. And let’s proceed on past the point where the trailers that run before this first showing of the day start some five minutes late.

Let’s skip past even the first few opening minutes of the film, which are hard to decipher because the framing is off - leaving a black horizontal line to run across the middle of the screen - and is corrected only after a handful of people go and complain.

Let’s pick matters up about an hour into the running time of this critically acclaimed film, a fictional look at the events of Shakespeare’s life that led to the writing of his great romantic tragedy “Romeo and Juliet.” For it’s just at this point, where a plot twist has our hero bemoaning both the seeming loss of his love and the death of a theatrical rival, that the film, suddenly and unintentionally, turns into a comedy show of slapstick proportions.

Almost before we know what is happening, the characters on the screen appear upside down. The dialogue coming from their mouths sounds as if they are practicing some ancient language after having inhaled helium.

And just like that, the mood is broken. The spell that the director (in this case, John Madden) and his brilliant cast (Joseph Fiennes, Gwyneth Paltrow, Geoffrey Rush, Colin Firth, Ben Affleck, Judi Dench, etc.) have cast over us wafts away quicker than the scent of popcorn in a poorly ventilated restroom.

And yet no one, aside from those of us in the audience, is there to notice. The movie plays on, oblivious to what is so clearly apparent - that in setting up the film for showing, someone had made a mistake while splicing together the reels. We are watching the film upside down, and the sound track is playing backward.

One by one, and then in groups, we go and complain. And the reaction by those working behind the concession stand is fairly uniform: There is a problem, they admit while filling paper cups with soda. Someone is looking into it and there is nothing else to do but wait.

No one seems to know where the manager is.

And still the film plays on, the figures on screen bleating like insects in heat.

When the manager finally does show, he is profoundly apologetic. He freely offers every audience member a free pass. He says that the projectionist, who is at home, is being called in to fix the problem. We are free to wait around or use the pass to see something else.

I choose to leave. It’s clear that the problem won’t be fixed for a long while, and neither Robin Williams nor Julia Roberts nor Meg Ryan will serve when you’re in the mood for even ersatz Shakespeare.

But I can’t shake my anger.

Let me be clear about this: I’m not mad at the manager. Neither am I mad at the minimum-wage workers, not those who tear tickets nor those who push popcorn. I’m not even mad at the regional supervisors who hold the unenviable job of trying to oversee operations at 10 different theaters boasting 50-odd screens throughout Spokane and Coeur d’Alene.

I am angry, though, at the kind of corporate mentality that allows such a situation to develop. I’m angry at an absentee ownership that is willing to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on projection equipment but won’t supplement that investment with enough money to hire an on-site projectionist who will remain on the job to make sure that films start on time, instantly fix the focus and framing when needed, and to be there taking action when any serious problem occurs.

I’m angry at a theater chain that promises a lot and yet too often delivers only the bottom line. I’m angry at a business that markets the fantasy of escape and yet forces teenage workers to face the wrath of disappointed movie-lovers when those fantasies fall apart because of standard technological problems.

In the 18 years that I’ve lived here, Spokane moviegoers have had to put up with a lot. We’ve all endured torn seats and dirty floors, overpriced and underseasoned popcorn, a lack of air-conditioning in summer and no heat in winter, poor sound and dim projection, not to mention a second-rate selection of films (latest example: no “Life is Beautiful” but a dozen showings of “Patch Adams”).

It’s also true that, over the years, conditions in all these areas have improved. I’d be avoiding the truth if I insisted otherwise.

But I’d be lying also if I didn’t insist that there’s a long way to go. The fact that the brilliant minds who built the Spokane Valley 12, which was then owned by Regal Cinemas’ predecessor, ACT III Theatres, didn’t think that movie patrons needed protection from the elements is testament to that sad fact.

And the problem is not just at the Valley. Screening problems have occurred, and continue to occur, at the Regal-owned Newport Highway, Lyons Ave., North Division, East Sprague, Lincoln Heights and the two Coeur d’Alene theaters. Those of you who see movies regularly know that this is so.

Yes, it’s also happened at the few independent theaters (the Magic Lantern was famous for broken projectors). But then most of those are dollar discount houses where you get what you pay for. At $6.75 a head ($3.75 for matinees), Regal’s Valley theater is the most expensive movie house in the area.

The question is, ultimately, what’s to be done? The answer isn’t clear, not when it must be provided by owners who aren’t good at returning phone calls, not even for response to this column, who instead seem content merely to sit in Knoxville, Tenn., busily keeping tabs on their profit margins.

That was what I was thinking as I shuddered in the cold on Sunday, slowly shuffling toward doors that again dangled before me the promise of warmth and the kind of emotional comfort that is provided only by celluloid dreams.

All too often, these days, that promise ends up being broken. And I seriously doubt that I’m the only one who feels this way.