Cinémathèque
What time is Transformers?
I was running late to the 6:30pm showing. It was a rainy evening and I had to pop back into the apartment to grab my umbrella. There was no time for dinner beforehand, but I thought to myself, no problem, I’ll grab some popcorn, maybe even a cocktail. I was having flashbacks to the delicious cocktails I used to enjoy at the Sie Film Center during the Denver Film Festival.
I love independent cinema, so I excited to check out Cinémathèque Québécoise, an independent cinema and film conservatory in Montréal’s Quartier de Spectacles (the cultural and performing arts district). Unfamiliar with the area, I walked in the wrong direction out of the metro station, and then had to loop back. I was cutting it close, but I figured no worries, I’ll just miss the previews.
I arrived at the ticket counter at 6:29pm and grabbed my ticket. The woman said to me (in French) “The film is staring in 1 minute, so you better hurry up.” I apologized for being late, and ran up the stairs, seeing no opportunity to buy snacks or drinks (I did notice on the way out after the film that there is actually a Bar-Café, but it is oddly open only Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday).
Not that it would have mattered even if it was open, because as soon as I reached the theatre, I saw a sign indicating that no food was allowed inside (yes, I know I broke the rules by taking this photo – don’t tell on me).
No photos, no phone, and don’t you dare with the popcorn!
I rushed into the theatre and found a seat. I was the last cinemagoer to arrive; the others all appeared settled. A moment after I sat down, the usher closed the doors to the theatre, and the film began.
The screening was of Dahomey by Matio Diop, the French film director of Senegalese heritage whose first film was Atlantics (which I saw at the Denver Film Festival and loved). I enhoyed it, but let me say that even by the standards of a French film, it had very little dialogue, and large parts of the film were silent. There was no way I could have hidden any popcorn munching noises…
At the end of the film, I was about to get up and leave as the credits started rolling, except – nobody in the cinema moved from their seat. Like, not even any rustling of jackets in preparation for departure. These were clearly highly committed cinema goers, observing the sanctity of the theatre space, neither polluting it with popcorn nor cocktails, and paying homage to the film by sitting through… the entire credits.
I kept waiting for someone to make a move. By now, we were at the part of the credits where they are mentioning the catering company and payroll processor (all film producers and directors, actors, and extras having long since been mentioned). I made a quiet escape at this point, because I had to get home – I was starving. Toto, we’re not in the AMC Multiplex anymore.
