UNITED ARTISTS NEEDS TO STOP THE MADNESS

This is not a new issue, but recently my camel back has been broken by the straw of unending commercials before movies at United Artist Theaters.

I notice, for example, that Cast Away is scheduled to start at UA screen near us at 3:35 pm. Judging by my scientific research in the area of useless pre-movie clutter, Tom Hanks will not show his mug on that screen until 4. That's right: on average, the last five times I've seen a movie at a UA Theater, 20 to 25 minutes of commercials, trailers, and miscellaneous delays have pushed movie times back at an incredible rate.

While I certainly understand the impact big-screen commercials have on the revenues of struggling theater chains like the Englewood-based UA (which has recently tangoed with bankruptcy), it seems unfair to claim a movie starts when the slide show of crappy Coca-Cola trivia ends and the onslaught of crappy Sprite ads begins. Shouldn't the published movie time reflect, say, the moment when the studio's logo is projected? Or, at the very least, the time when that lesbian "welcome" lady intones her echoing call to moviegoing action? (And what is with the black guy in the popcorn? Is he Super Butter Man? A satisfied yet submerged customer? Orville Reddenbacher's secret ingredient?)

It's an old joke to turn to your date and mutter, "What movie are we seeing again?" But the sheer amount of commercials and previews has made only the strongest of memory able to enter into a movie with confidence. You've got to be a Simon whiz not to get mind-erased anymore. Is this UA's idea of customer service ... giving us a pleasant surprise when the opening titles appear and we suddenly remember what movie we were so excited to see?

Like the other big company headquartered here in Colorado-- I won't name names, but it rhymes with 'Qwest-- UA seems to think that customers care more about advertising than service. It's an odd industry, I suppose. People do not go to a theater to eat, watch commercials, or play video games, yet these are the only three aspects of movie watching theaters make money on. Essentially, with Hollywood taking every nickel of the ticket price, theater chains are asked to survive by preventingpeople from watching movies.

I'd sympathize, yet the obvious reason UA is in financial trouble, and thus forced to cram so many ads in before movie time, is they decided a expansion plan throughout Denver's suburbs was a good idea for a theater chain. At one point, UA theaters like Greenwood, Starport (now defunct), and Park Meadows (you can spit from one to the next) all sat empty while the AMC Highlands Ranch 24 raked it in a few miles away. Brilliant.

Incidentally, that company I was mentioning before, the one that starts with a Q and ends with the opposite of 'east', now buys commercial time at UA Theaters. It's a lovely spot: a child in a trailer park stands out in the desert and prays for snow. Lo and behold, snow comes, much to the kid's bathrobe-clad dad's amazement. What's the message here, Qwest? That if we want phone service, we should stand outside one of your skyscrapers and pray real hard?

You see? Moviegoers don't make a receptive audience. We're too pissed off to feel good will toward the advertiser.

There isn't much we can do. Showing up a half-hour late might spare you the pain, but good luck finding a seat on opening weekend when the unwashed masses have had a 30-minute head start on you. Asking for fewer previews, as journalists and consumers have done for years now, has only resulted in commercials being thrown in before the previews. I shudder to think what they'll tack on if we ask for fewer commercials.

Sadly, the theater chains have won. They've won with more comfortable seats, better food, louder sound systems (which they also feel the need to announce before the movie starts--what, am I going to march out if I'm not reassured the THX system is working?), and flicks with cooler special effects.

I have taken to studying the very lower-left corner of the screen when the commercials are playing. It's harder than it sounds. The eye naturally wants to focus on the center of the action. But if you can manage it, you'll notice that all sorts of cool stuff goes on down there. Plus, you won't be subjected to the logo of whatever company has stolen 30 seconds of your precious life away.

If this doesn't work, or makes you too dizzy, try turning around and striking up a conversation with the person behind you. One person I did this with became angry, which really puzzled me. I was only trying to help by making friends and distracting him from the ads. Maybe he was extremely undecided on what kind of gum to buy at the grocery store, and that Polar Ice ad was miraculously solving all his problems one humorous scene at a time. I think, however, that you'll find most people won't mind.

When all else fails, shut your eyes, stick your fingers in your ears and sing "Mary Had A Little Lamb." Just remember to quit after three times, though, or you might sing right through the movie. That'll really piss off the guy behind you, believe me.

Like anything else, the American people will quickly get used to this particularly devious form of commercial bombardment. Soon, we'll be thanking UA for the little things. Like the fact that the damn Fantasia 2000 trailer isn't running anymore. Or that tall people in hats don't get in the way so much, what with stadium seating and all.

If you, like me, just can't take it anymore, go to the Mayan. They only pester you with previews for wimpy British flicks, and then only three at a time at most. Or convince someone that you're a movie reviewer. Contrary to all logic, candy and soda companies don't feel movie reviewers are a viable audience for their product placement, and the commercials stay, mercifully, off the reels.

CORRECTIONS

In our last issue (Volume 2, Issue 27), we mistakenly identified a play we reviewed as "A Child's Christmas in Whales." As intriguing a concept as a young boy's yuletide journey through the gastronomy of an aquatic mammal might sound, we're quite certain that Dylan Thomas intended the play to be called "A Child's Christmas in Wales."We regret the error.

Also, in this very space in that very same issue, a certain 'it' mutated and became an 'at' by the time we hit press. The offending word has been disciplined, and we assure you 'it' will never happen again.

For those who are wondering, we did manage to spell Chuck Shepherd's name correctly last issue, and have done so for 21 consecutive issues now. We hope this restores your faith in us, Mr. Maddux.

Please, talk to us. Send an e-mail to Chris at editor@ gogomagazine. com.

--Chris J. Magyar