I used to love going to the movies as a kid. When my dad’s youngest brother would visit, my dad’s parents used to gather all ten grandkids to go to the Americana West. If it were still standing — last I checked it was a Powerhouse Gym — you’d write it off as dated. It even felt that way back then. Stiff chairs with unpredictable propensities for reclining, stale-tasting popcorn. It was one of those local, no-frills theaters that finally met its fate in the late 90s as mega multiplex-style theaters started to swoop onto the scene.
I still loved it. It was in the same strip mall as a bulk-goods store; I’m not sure I knew the name then because we always just referred to it as “Bulk Food.” My Papa Donnie would let us fill a plastic bag with whatever confections we wanted — I now know it’s because it would still have been cheaper by the pound than individual popcorns and sodas for ten kids. If both grandparents were in tow, my grandmother would fill her purse with ten bags each of tuna sandwiches on challah, grapes, sometimes chips or something else salty. Somehow in addition to that smorgasbord she also managed to fit ten small dixie cups for us to share a Sprite. The only thing that feels crazy to me now is that any of us would have been drinking regular pop.
The whole movie-going experience is something I still sort of romanticize. I prefer the small, shabby theaters of the early 90s to the power-recliners and stadium seating setups we have today.
It’s one of the things I love most about where we live. We have a few theaters that, despite renovations, still feel homely and a little rundown.
I had time to myself tonight, and decided to go to “the show” solo. A small popcorn, large Diet Pepsi (not my preference despite living near its HQ), and I was perfectly primed to watch “The Friend.”
Without spoiling the movie, let me just say that it was perfect for a DIY date-night. No husband scrolling his phone, no kids asking questions in a non-whisper or hushed shout. I felt like I was watching something akin to a Nancy Meyers or Nora Ephron picture. Naomi Watts was outstanding, but Bing, who played Apollo, was also quite the standout star.
Familiar faces like Constance Wu, of course Billy Murray, and Ann Dowd also graced the screen. Watts’ character, Iris, reminded me of myself at times. Sure, I’m married with two kids and a schnauzer, but there’s something to be said for the themes of friendship, strong bonds, and for finding comfort in chaos. The way Iris was forced to navigate her grief with a daily reminder of her loss while she grew into her role as companion to a Great Dane, it was a treat to watch.
Movies like this feel so classically New York to me. As a Michigander-turned-New Yorker, and one who never really liked living in the city besides my short-ish stint in Queens, I swoon for storylines that weave in pieces that feel so city-coded. From characters and plot-lines that are publishing adjacent, a few professorial types, quick-cut glimpses of the subway (despite my distaste for it), the city’s perfect parks. It doesn’t do it justice and yet, it kind of sort of does.
Award season may be behind us, but “The Friend” certainly has my vote for a must-see.