Going To The Movie

-

It has been a few years since I first went to the movie theatre in Padova.  Television is quite boring in Italy, the evening offerings are filled with stupid game shows that are so bad they have to have a chorus line of dancers break into the scene and shake their booties.  If that is not interesting enough you could go numb watching experts argue points, shaking their arms, yelling and using body language fit for a basketball coach at the finals.

So I felt quite lucky when I heard that we could go to the theatre and I didn't even care if it was in Italian.  What that means is at that time I wouldn't be able to understand even a simple sentence in Italian.  But that is okay because they use extreme gestures which often tell the viewer what they are saying. 

Off we go, fighting traffic, and searching for a parking place like the shark of Jaws seeks out tasty swimmers.  I often hum John Williams' Jaws theme, which irritates the heck out of my wife and gets a smile out of me.  Back in America I was a big movie lover and tried to see a large majority of the movies when they opened.

We got the tickets and I motioned that we should visit the snack stand and get some popcorn, etc.  I was then questioned as to why I would want to do that.  As an upstanding American movie goer I am used to popcorn with my movie.  There was a small discussion here and I was told that Italians are not big popcorn consumers.  I won out, but I didn't get the tub, but just a medium sized paper bag.  We went into the theatre, finding it quite crowded with people talking in soft tones. 

The movie starts with the usual loud music and everyone settles into their tight seats (seats in Italian theatres are designed for tight little rear ends, maybe people from the 30's who were hungry a lot),   But not as tight as seats to see The Phantom in London.  Suddenly the scene changes and it becomes very quiet with the actors sneaking around and not speaking much.  It is deathly quiet in the theatre.

My hand reaches into the paper bag for some popcorn.  The paper crinkles just a little with a paper scratching noise. My hand comes out with a few choice buttery pieces.  As my hand reaches my lips I look to see people turning to look at where the noise is coming from.  I am noticing that people in my row and leaning over to see who is eating popcorn from a bag.  This is when I notice that NO ONE else is eating popcorn. No one else is eating anything, nor drinking anything.   I am suddenly so sorry I am American at this moment.  Italians just don't eat snacks at the cinema. 

This experience reminds me of this youtube video of a guy who eats loudly in a University library.  I hope it will make you smile.  copy and paste it to see.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxOjfHFe1xY&list=RDmPh9JZlVUK0&index=2

After all these years I have never bought popcorn in a theatre, and when I go by the popcorn machine I wonder just how old that pile of popcorn is.  Maybe it is just a plastic replica.
Ciao.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Finally, Starbucks Is Open In Milano

-
Image
  Finally , a visit to Italy’s first Starbucks which has opened in Milano.   My wife had a knitting convention in Milano and she came   through with some photos to show my blog readers.   I had written about this Starbucks insertion a few times, and it certainly took some years to finally open for business.   Previously, the originator and American owner of Starbucks had promised never to open a Starbucks in Italy, but as you will see, he changed his mind. The plan was to purchase the old main post office of Milano which is across the plaza from the Duomo (huge cathedral).   The main shopping area for exclusive clothing, etc., is also just steps away, so a great influx of tourists was to be expected to make a visit and leave their euros behind.   You must have heard stories about construction jobs in Italy and how turtle speed is the progress.   This project is a prime example.     The Entrance Brewing Display This is not your normal Starbucks with the food display, the coffee order an
Read more

More Things Italian

-
Image
All Things Italian This morning in my coffee bar, I spent a few hours on an art project and did my usual people watching. 7 Men came in for a coffee, and 8 women of which half were a group on over 80’s who meet twice a week there. Only one of the men was retirement age, he is a regular who speaks loudly in Veneto to the barista. She always speaks loudly, so they get along fine. I don’t know what it is about baristas, they must have a hearing problem as they are almost yelling at the customers, greeting them with a buongiorno and then asking them which type of brioche they want, and then running through the whole list of what is inside the brioches. One can find chocolate, cream, vuoto (empty), pistacchio (pronounced Kee, not chee) nutty, and more. One other thing about all baristas, they all love to make noise when putting the coffee cups and saucers in the sink. I think that they must be cymbal players in the local town band. When I first went into the bar, my phone told me i
Read more
-
Image
Greetings from my village coffee bar. Yesterday, driving home from Croatia, there was a dangerous downpour made the autostrada dangerous, not only to go forward, but even to pull off. Even if we could finally find a place to escape we were afraid to leave in case of being hit from behind. Fifteen minutes can feel like a lifetime! On the way from home there is a stretch of autostrada near Latisana, which for several reasons has more accidents than anywhere else. This Friday was no exception. A crash being cleared caused a second crash that had occurred just minutes from our passing. A driver had been driving too fast and too close and when he reached the stopped traffic, it was too late. The back end of the lead car was mashed as if a giant sledge hammer had hit is, even the muffler was crashed and hanging down. The driver was out in front on the phone calling for help while holding his head in his right hand. Everyone proceeded even slower after this. This stretch of high
Read more