Original Cinemaniac

Bolting: The Joyful Art Of Leaving A Movie

When I was young, I went to the movies all the time. Not just once a week. All the time. And I was a rather indiscriminate moviegoer. I’d see anything. From The Night Of the Iguana to Night Of the Blood Beast. It didn’t much matter to me. Some people experienced childhood. I went to the movies.

            But it wasn’t until I saw a prurient little sex comedy called Under The Yum Tum Tree that it dawned on me that I didn’t have toh sit through a whole movie if I truly hated it. Under The Yum Yum Tree starred Jack Lemmon, Dean Jones and Carol Lynley. Lemmon played the leering landlord of a seedy motel, and everyone in the film ogled girls and did push-ups when they got sexually aroused. It aggravated me so much that I suddenly found myself physically ejected from my plush seat in the theater and hurtling up the aisle and into the lobby as if moved by a force stronger than myself. Then, before I had time to consider the repercussions of my act, I found myself pushing the EXIT door and shielding my eyes from the glaring sun out on the sidewalk. What an exhilarating feeling. It was like breaking out of jail. I was free! Free to stroll up the avenue and breathe in the fresh air. Free to browse in a book store. Free from having to spend on more minute gazing up at the 20-foot projection of “wacky” Jack Lemmon’s stupid face. It was an experience as memorable to me as my first sexual encounter.

            Ever since I have had no qualms about fleeing theaters in the middle of a movie. Some people feel they should stick it out. They grit their teeth and bear it right through the final credits. But not me. Enough really can be enough. I had a friend that overdid this though. He would jump up in a huff during the opening credits and storm out. Even I thought that was pushing it. But 15 to 20 minutes can be enough to know if a film isn’t working for you. I have done little experiments where I deliberately stay past the warning bell that goes off in my head just to see if I am acting too hastily, and without fail the movie never does get any better.

            So you should follow your instincts, and when that little interior buzzer rings, leap to your feet like the holy spirit has possessed you and hightail it up the aisle. Turning your back on a noisy, comic-book-based-super-hero-cluster-fuck on screen and dashing into the daylight can only make you a stronger and better person.

            Now most people travel in packs, like wolverines, which makes “bolting” a bit trickier. Say you are with a group of friends and a half hour into the movie you get the sinking feeling that Bradley Cooper is going to sing again. What do you do? The impulse to jump up, grab your coat and climb over your friends, pleading “Pardon me, pardon me, pardon me..” until you reach the aisle is disheartening to consider. Perhaps an alternative would be to secretly jam your index finger down the back of your throat as far as you can. There’s nothing like projectile vomit to gain sympathy for a quick exit. There are times when drastic measures are indeed called for. And just think- you’ll then be free!

            I wouldn’t suggest you repeat this little stunt too often for fear your friends will either get wise to your game or suspect you are bulimic. And throwing up on a date, I’ve discovered, does not exactly endear you to them.

            Exercising your God-given right to leave a movie before it ends is something you should practice often, much like praying, voting or drinking. Because there are times when you are trapped and helpless, unable to make that choice for yourself. I have this running nightmare where I am in an airplane. I’m strapped in and the plane is taxiing down the runway ready to lift off. The stewardess has finished with the safety instructions and a voice comes over the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, the in-flight movie today will be Bill Cosby in the hilarious Leonard Part 6.”

            Pretty scary, huh? So the next time you’re sitting in a multiplex in the darkened theater and sweat starts to bead up on your forehead during another Spiderman reboot or a Tom Cruise bowling thriller, remember the Bolters’ Creed: “Give me liberty or give me the EXIT door.”

            I’m out of here.