The Universal Constant

Throughout the world there have been two constants; one has been the music and the other has been the movies. English lyrics have been pumped at us from buses, restaurants and outdoor discos. Movies have always been American. It hasn't been hard to keep up with what Hollywood has been producing, albeit it six months behind. Romania gave us one more opportunity to be whisked away to the U.S.A, this time to the future. But the movie theater we walked into was definitely from the past.

The ticket booth had two white hand-written posters on either side; one posted this week's movie, the other last week's. Show times, we noted, were always the same. Hopefully the film we wanted to see fit within the two hour window so none of it would be cut. Since we had been turned away from the morning show (the film hadn't arrived yet) we tried again at 3:30. Yes the film was there. We handed the ticket lady the equivalent of 66 cents each and walked in.

The theater foyer was impressive; grand; regal looking; the heavy draperies, the upholstered furniture from an era lost in time. The entrance to the auditoriums were cloaked in heavy red velvet; a slit in the middle revealed another layer in green. But first a trip to the bathrooms. In the corner a red curtain separated the bathroom hall from the foyer. We pulled it aside. A mistake. The stench of a millennium poured from those red folds; the toilets were beyond use.

The air in the theater wasn't much better. Heavy; it sat on us as we entered. We tried a few seats and took the best looking two in the center. All had a bed-spread like material tacked on and most had broken cushions. Their straight wooden backs would assure we didn't slouch. The theater itself was long and narrow and perched high in the front was the screen; a cloth pulled tight across wood and nailed at the top and bottom. On either side of its water stains was a double stacked speaker; their wires ran along the walls to the back.

The lights dimmed, there was the familiar sound of candy wrappers being unfolded, a crackling of speakers and the show began - five minutes early. There were no previews, no commercials. For most of the movie we didn't notice the screen spots or the line pulsing down the side of the film. The sound was akin to a stereo T.V. and even that wasn't too bad. It could be that we were spell-bound by the movie or it could be that we were fully absorbing the experience.

Before the credits could spill across the screen the lights came on and the curtain was pulled aside. We left Hollywood, squeezed past the people who were already pushing in for the next showing and returned to Romania which in contrast seemed worlds away.