You still get that little buzz. Silly, really, because they don't make them like they used to. But once in a while they do.
Once in a while they do.
And you let go of everything. The family dispute, the troublesome body symptom, the bill you can't afford to pay. And you wait for the curtain to part. You hope for something special.
You forget the review you read in Empire, you put aside the blogger who projected all their misery and depression onto the movie in the form of a hateful review, you brush it all aside. The IMDB score doesn't matter. The box office doesn't matter. This is between you and the film behind the curtain.
They may have hated it in New York. It may have been a failure in China. But its never been screened in the room you're in to this specific audience at this exact time. Something completely new is about to happen.
There's a voice inside you that's ready to trash it. Ready to think it knows better. And there's someone in you who wants to analyse it; turn it into a review, turn it into a rant when you see your friends. But that part of you doesn't love movies, it just loves being right. You turn it off and the lights come down and for two hours you give yourself over.
This could really be something.