The Times Are A Changin'

The Times Are A Changin'

By Mark Leitheiser

“For the times they are a-changin’.” So sang Minnesota’s own Bob Dylan back in 1964 as he chronicled the changing social structure in America. Dylan’s words became an anthem of the times 50 years ago and they still ring true today.

Changing times are nothing new. In fact, the only constant seems to be change. Currently, thanks to technology, we are living through the most rapid changes in recorded history and there are no signs it will slow down anytime soon.

One area going through extreme change is the motion picture industry. Recent data reveals that thousands of movie theaters have closed their doors during the last few years while several prominent movie theater companies have filed for bankruptcy.

Since the early 1900s, Hollywood has provided a steady diet of entertainment for generations, yet those days appear to be fading faster than John Wayne riding off into the sunset with a hole in his hat. Why are theaters finding it so difficult to keep their doors open? With today’s streaming services, there is simply no need to fill them.

Yet, for many of us, those old theater doors were gates to another world. My own experience took place up north at the Cinema Theater on main street where entrance lines routinely stretched down the sidewalk in all kinds of weather. Why the long lines? We didn’t go to the theater just to see a movie. We went for the experience.

When we finally reached the entrance, we were greeted by the grouchy owner and her gold phone. After paying with cash, we slobbered in front of the glass display case holding every kind of candy known to man. The sound and smell of buttery corn popping merrily into white steaming mountains only added to the experience.

Once inside the cavernous theater, we waited for the red velvet curtain to rise and endured the previews of the coming movies before settling in for the feature film. These were wonderful times of shared community even if the movies weren’t very good and were interrupted while some dope upstairs loaded the second reel of the movie. When the show was complete, we would stand behind the red velvet ropes in the lobby to watch for our rides home.

There were issues of course. Many of us sought to avoid the crazy 50 cents price tag for a large box of candy by sneaking in our own sweets. Others did the same thing with cans of pop and, inevitably, some joker near the back - I swear it was not me - would roll an empty can down the length of the theater floor, just to show management who was boss.

A more perplexing issue was the movie rating system which prevented curious young boys from getting into R-rated movies. The grouchy owner was adamant: either you were of age or she had to get permission from one of your parents using her gold phone, which presented a solution. Some boys - I may be guilty here - simply dialed the number of a phone booth down the street where one of our older brothers took the call, gave parental permission, and access was gained. Whether or not the grouchy owner knew what was going on, we never knew.

In truth, those R-rated experiences were disappointing, providing more foul language than skin. Yet, like so many things, they were part of the theater experience which helped entire communities escape to place for decades.

Recently, Sweetums and I were watching a streaming series from the comfort of our home. It was an easy experience yet I found myself looking for connections to the theater experience of my youth. And then I found them. Today’s technology may have changed how we watch shows but when it comes to the shows themselves, some things never change.

Let’s start with this: bad guys in movies are still lousy marksmen. How is it that hired assassins can stand 10 feet from their victims with a point-blank shot and miss . . . every time. Yet a crippled grandmother can fall backwards off a speeding motorcycle and kill a bad guy with a single shot . . . every time. I guess assassins have never been very good with their guns.

And what about parking spots? How is it that our heroes can fly up to a building in New York City during rush hour and find a parking spot . . . every time? They must know something I don’t know because it certainly doesn’t work that way for me.

And how do gangsters still manage to squeal their tires on gravel? It must be true because it has happened for decades. I scratched a little gravel back in the day but I don’t remember ever hearing my tires squeal. That had to wait for a STOP sign.

And while we’re at it, how can heroes on minibikes continue to outrun villains on souped-up choppers? And why are those bad guys always experts in self-defense and speak with British accents? The mysteries of the silver screen are timeless but they don’t end there.

Another ageless cinema quirk involves using the bathroom, or rather, not using the bathroom.

Has the handsome hero ever had to use the bathroom while he lies in bed for days as a gorgeous young lady nurses him back to health? Have we ever heard her say, “I’ll go look in the garage for that old catheter on the work bench,”?

Hospital halls are empty when the villain strikes. A 1973 Ford Pinto outruns a Porsche sports car and heroes speak every language on earth. Dylan was right; the times are indeed changing. The delivery today has changed but the content of our shows remains largely unchanged. So if a foreign assassin with a British accent squeals into a perfect parking spot in his Porsche and aims his gun at you, don’t worry; he’ll still miss . . . every time.