Mary Hockenbery (reddirtrose)
Untitled
Watch the sun setting beyond a sunset. There you have it, encapsulated, the special delight of outdoor cinema; you can make yourself closer to the drama. If there is one thing which will make you skip the comfort, and the endless choices of a modern multiplex, then I would argue that it is moments like this. I have watched Jaws while snuggling on a beach, and the crowd all sang “Show me the way to go home”, badly and drunkenly, exactly as it should be sung. I sat through Mon Oncle on tipsy-topsy metal chairs in a Mediterranean courtyard, everyone else had brought a comfy cushion. I have swatted away giant bugs while Harry Potter confronted malevolent spiders in his forbidden forest, and I’ve slept under the stars through Inception.
But this is something I have never done. Drive in movies are that increasingly rare retro American moment. They are a curiosity now, like vintage cars. As a city person, it’s been years since I’ve even owned a car, and that was a mom-van . When I look at this picture I want to drive a 56 Buick Century Convertible out of the city limits and watch American Graffiti at a drive in, and I want to sing along too.
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