Scouring the depths of suburban cinema

The theater is tucked into the corner of a strip mall like coins lost inside the cushions of your couch; locating it is reminiscent of the scene in Swingers where Jon Favreau tells Ron Livingston that finding the bars in L.A. is "kinda like a speakeasy kind of thing...you tell a chick you've been some place, it's like bragging that you know how to find it." With ownership recently having changed hands, the sign posted reads "Valley View Cinema Grill 10" rather than the current, more generic name of "Chandler Cinemas" (the theater is located in Chandler, Arizona). There's no external box office, only a countertop (as seen in the left-hand side of the picture below) with two bored employees standing by, waiting for another customer. In the lobby are a few beat down pool tables, in addition to the standard array of video games. At the moment of our arrival, there's not another customer in sight.

It's 9:00 pm on a Sunday night in suburbia, and Mrs. Fletch and I are off to a newly re-opened discount theater to catch a screening of Eraserhead. First we split up to use our respective lavatories, only the men's version is located past the "box office" in the inner lobby, so we must purchase our tickets first. "Cash only!!" reads the handwritten sign taped to the wall. Not a problem - $15.00 for two. Pushing through to the inner lobby, we find a large open space. There is a projection screen TV pushed against one wall, and a few couches and loveseats that look like remnants from a college dormitory pushed against the other. Due to the vastness of the lobby, the couches and television are probably 40 feet apart, so I wonder who watches the TV and when - it ain't that large of a screen. We purchase some popcorn and two large drinks (surprisingly good popcorn) for a bargain $7.00 or so and make our way to the screening.

We enter the theater about ten minutes before showtime, but it's been a daylong David Lynch event, and a collection of short films is currently wrapping up. Things are also starting to get interesting...

For starters, the first noticeable thing is that for a discount theater, there are a lot of screens (10 to be exact). But as we enter our theater, the size of the room itself is also surprising. It's roughly equivalent to a mid-size theater at your local big movie house, with a large screen to boot. The room is fuller than the lobby and exterior had suggested, with about 30 people spread out inside. The real treat, though, is that in many of the rows, there is a table in place of a seat. It's not uniform, so the impression is given that the acquisition of the seating in the theater was somewhat haphazard, but it's an odd charm that impresses, as though there were a table in the middle of a row of airplane seats. Though the chairs themselves are equipped with cupholders (wooden, to boot!), there's a sense of freedom in placing our popcorn and drinks on the table instead of holding it on one of our laps.

Then the movie started. I realize I'm about 30 years late to the party, but bear with me.

If you have yet to experience Eraserhead, I think I highly recommend it. That's not to say that I thoroughly enjoyed the movie; in fact, I sat in awe, mouth agape, for much of the running time (though I think that's an intended consequence). It's garbage and high art simultaneously, filled with terrible effects, lofty aspirations and absurd behaviors. The first five minutes are almost purely experimental filmmaking and impossible to put into any sort of context without having seen the rest of the film, and even then stand out for their bizarre visuals and silence. The narrative does slowly pick up, though, and it's a doozy that I won't bother trying to explain in this space (go to Wikipedia if you're looking for any sort of cohesive plot analysis). It's a wonder the film was finished (it was filmed over a span of about six years) or found any audience, but its importance and influence probably can't be underestimated.

As blasphemous as it may sound, the high point in the movie for me was when the "Lady in the Radiator" sang her song the first time. I recognized it immediately but couldn't quite place it. "In heaven, everything is fine.." sings the lady with chipmunk cheeks (literally). It wasn't until we were leaving the theater that it hit me - the Pixies had covered the song some years back, and it's on their B-Sides album. As is turns out, the song has been covered by a number of acts. My naivete knows no bounds.

Though it's a lengthy drive, we'll no doubt head back to the Chandler Cinemas for more quirky nights filled with strange films. On their upcoming slate is a double feature of Monty Python and the Holy Grail and The Life of Brian, which ought to be a hoot to catch in front of a live audience, and a film independently produced by Crispin Glover, where the actor will present his movie and participate in a live Q & A. There is also a weekly showing of Rocky Horror (not my bag) and a "shadowcast" of Moulin Rouge where a group of performers will act the movie out directly below the screen playing the actual film. Too weird, or a must see? You tell me.

For local fans, here's the Cinemas' MySpace page.