John Whitehead's Commentary
The Lost Joy of Going to Movies
Fewer and fewer people are attending movies. As one writer recently recognized, "The regular movie audience has been so decimated over the past 56 years that the habitual adult moviegoer will soon qualify as an endangered species." When asked in an Associated Press poll, 73% said they would rather stay home and watch a DVD or video than venture to a movie theater. About half of those polled believe movies are getting worse, and almost 70% believe the movies made today present negative role models for children.
There is no doubt that times have changed. Millions of dollars are spent by the mega-corporations that own the film companies to churn out soulless movies. And it costs a small fortune for a family to buy tickets, popcorn and soft drinks.
But more than this has altered the theater-going experience. We have lost our innocence, and it shows on the big screen. This is tragic because there are so many children who will never experience what it was once like to go to the movies.
When I was growing up in Peoria, Illinois, in the 1950s, both of my parents worked. My mother was employed at a grocery store within walking distance of the three main movie theaters. She would give me some nickels and dimes, and off I would go and enter the dream world of movies. This was the day when the theaters opened at 10:00 a.m. every morning.
To this day, I believe this was one of the best things my parents ever did for me. It changed my life and opened worlds that I would never have known otherwise, something that the mediocrity of modern television cannot do. At the time, the science fiction craze was just beginning to hit. Hollywood directors were churning out low-budget "B" flicks about aliens and flying saucers. And I was particularly susceptible, being only six or seven at the time.
Sitting in the dark theater, I entered the world of make-believe. Classics such as The Day the Earth Stood Still and The Invasion of the Body Snatchers had me white-knuckled and glued to my seat. I even had trouble sleeping after seeing The Thing, a genuinely good film about an alien creature that survives on the blood of humans.
For me, a little boy lost in the amniotic darkness of the movie theater, these films fused fantasy and reality. Instinctively, they forced me to develop an imagination so I wouldn't be caught off-guard by the so-called real world which, of course, included aliens--most of whom looked and acted like my teachers at school.
The movie theater is where I virtually lived during the early years of my life when I wasn't at school. This was a time when the price of admission allowed you to stay as long as you wanted and watch the movies over and over. I ate there. Boy, did I eat: hot dogs, popcorn, soft drinks, candy, pickles. One of my favorite movie house treats was a hot dog with mustard, topped with popcorn lined up in a row across the top. (I've tried but haven't been able to convince my own children that this is gourmet food.) I would take an entire box of Milk Duds and cram them into my mouth, making a huge caramel ball to suck on. What a life for a kid!
While this was happening to me, it was also happening to thousands upon thousands of kids watching the same films across the country. The theaters in Peoria were populated with what seemed to be hundreds of screaming, unruly children. A constant stream of popcorn boxes and ice flew toward the movie screen, and kids in the balcony poured their drinks on those unlucky enough to be sitting in the seats below.
It was a wild, wonderful time. And there were virtually no adults around. They were neither wanted, at least by the youthful moviegoers, nor necessary in those days. The America of the early 1950s was much different than it is today. Parents could let their children walk across town to the movies alone. Mothers didn't have to worry about their children being molested in a dark theater or in the restroom. Nor did the movies undermine the basic values of the culture. And the lead actors in films of those days were adults who, more often than not, provided positive role models. They certainly were not the lewd, crude and childish actors who haunt movies such as the recent Dukes of Hazzard.
This was probably the last era in our history where there was some semblance of innocence in popular culture. It's a crying shame because it will never happen again. And our children are the worse for it.
There is no doubt that times have changed. Millions of dollars are spent by the mega-corporations that own the film companies to churn out soulless movies. And it costs a small fortune for a family to buy tickets, popcorn and soft drinks.
But more than this has altered the theater-going experience. We have lost our innocence, and it shows on the big screen. This is tragic because there are so many children who will never experience what it was once like to go to the movies.
When I was growing up in Peoria, Illinois, in the 1950s, both of my parents worked. My mother was employed at a grocery store within walking distance of the three main movie theaters. She would give me some nickels and dimes, and off I would go and enter the dream world of movies. This was the day when the theaters opened at 10:00 a.m. every morning.
To this day, I believe this was one of the best things my parents ever did for me. It changed my life and opened worlds that I would never have known otherwise, something that the mediocrity of modern television cannot do. At the time, the science fiction craze was just beginning to hit. Hollywood directors were churning out low-budget "B" flicks about aliens and flying saucers. And I was particularly susceptible, being only six or seven at the time.
Sitting in the dark theater, I entered the world of make-believe. Classics such as The Day the Earth Stood Still and The Invasion of the Body Snatchers had me white-knuckled and glued to my seat. I even had trouble sleeping after seeing The Thing, a genuinely good film about an alien creature that survives on the blood of humans.
For me, a little boy lost in the amniotic darkness of the movie theater, these films fused fantasy and reality. Instinctively, they forced me to develop an imagination so I wouldn't be caught off-guard by the so-called real world which, of course, included aliens--most of whom looked and acted like my teachers at school.
The movie theater is where I virtually lived during the early years of my life when I wasn't at school. This was a time when the price of admission allowed you to stay as long as you wanted and watch the movies over and over. I ate there. Boy, did I eat: hot dogs, popcorn, soft drinks, candy, pickles. One of my favorite movie house treats was a hot dog with mustard, topped with popcorn lined up in a row across the top. (I've tried but haven't been able to convince my own children that this is gourmet food.) I would take an entire box of Milk Duds and cram them into my mouth, making a huge caramel ball to suck on. What a life for a kid!
While this was happening to me, it was also happening to thousands upon thousands of kids watching the same films across the country. The theaters in Peoria were populated with what seemed to be hundreds of screaming, unruly children. A constant stream of popcorn boxes and ice flew toward the movie screen, and kids in the balcony poured their drinks on those unlucky enough to be sitting in the seats below.
It was a wild, wonderful time. And there were virtually no adults around. They were neither wanted, at least by the youthful moviegoers, nor necessary in those days. The America of the early 1950s was much different than it is today. Parents could let their children walk across town to the movies alone. Mothers didn't have to worry about their children being molested in a dark theater or in the restroom. Nor did the movies undermine the basic values of the culture. And the lead actors in films of those days were adults who, more often than not, provided positive role models. They certainly were not the lewd, crude and childish actors who haunt movies such as the recent Dukes of Hazzard.
This was probably the last era in our history where there was some semblance of innocence in popular culture. It's a crying shame because it will never happen again. And our children are the worse for it.
ABOUT JOHN W. WHITEHEAD
Constitutional attorney and author John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute. His most recent books are the best-selling Battlefield America: The War on the American People, the award-winning A Government of Wolves: The Emerging American Police State, and a debut dystopian fiction novel, The Erik Blair Diaries. Whitehead can be contacted at staff@rutherford.org. Nisha Whitehead is the Executive Director of The Rutherford Institute. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.
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