Film

Concessions

How the Other Half Reclines

Wow, rich people! WOW! I mean, just wow. Nice work. Your lives are great. You just eat fancy hamburgers and recline in plush robot armchairs, and then you push a button and a friendly gal trots to your side and speaks to you in the Royal We and brings you as many hamburgers as you desire? Seriously, kudos. (Where's that button? Will someone bring me a Kudos?)

I know your secrets, rich people, because I was one of you yesterday for a few short, sweet hours in the cool, slate-tiled confines of Gold Class Cinemas at Redmond Town Center. GCC (I call it GCC because we are that kind of casual bros now) is a luxury movie theater for luxury people who want to enjoy Hollywood movies without the mess of dung-encrusted riff-raff—their clouds of flies and squiggly stink lines obscuring the screen; their pet chickens and barnyard mannerisms; their banjos and shotgun weddings; their overalls and lassos; their empty, sad, and doubtless chicken-fried wallets. GCC costs $35 a ticket. Suck it, poors!

The interior of GCC feels like a cruise ship if, say, Starbucks made cruise ships. There is a lobby with clusters of earth-toned chairs and innocuous art. There are some weird artificial fireplaces. The bathroom is a mansion. Everyone is incredibly calm and helpful. A person who can (and by can I mean will) only be described as the lady-butler takes your food order (glasses of wine, blue-cheese fondue with chips, several small hamburgers, brie and mushroom pizza) then escorts you down a looong hallway with many identical doors leading off to the right and left. There is no one in the hallway but you. You enter the theater.

We were in theater 7. We were the only people in theater 7. After we took our seats, the lady-butler showed us the button we could press to summon her, should we find ourselves in need of an additional small hamburger or some crème brûlée. (Can you hurry up? This is a CRÈME BRÛLÉE EMERGENCY!) She opened up the arm of my seat to reveal a secret chamber for stashing treasures. There was something knit and fuzzy in there. Being myself a secret bumpkin (and also annoying), I shouted, "FREE SWEATER!" The lady-butler looked at me. "No," she said, patiently. "It's a blanket. Will we be needing extra blankets today?" No, thank you, we are quite warm enough.

Then it was time to recline. The wealthy love to recline, and these recliners are delightfully bedlike. I could easily have stayed there, reclined, eating liquid blue cheese and watching movies forever. Then I discovered, while almost horizontal, that I could no longer quite reach the lady-butler-summoning button. I wondered if there was a closer button I could push that would summon someone to come push the button to summon the lady-butler. Siiigh. It's not easy being so wealthy and so reclined. recommended

 

Comments (4) RSS

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1
I HATE BEING UPRIGHT! RECLINE ME POST HASTE!
Posted by Meags The Hobo on December 4, 2008 at 10:02 AM · Report this
2
What movie did you see and do they accommodate wheelchairs?
Posted by elswinger on December 6, 2008 at 12:54 AM · Report this
3
Perhaps it's just a bad case of wishful-schadenfreude, but I can't wait for that theatre to go under.
Posted by Po' Boy on December 8, 2008 at 5:42 PM · Report this
4
@2: Quantum of Solace, and yep!
Posted by Lindy West on December 9, 2008 at 11:29 PM · Report this

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