That over with, in front of you are little mini-ads showing you what production and distribution companies put out the film you’re about to see. Guess what production company it is before the name appears. Tree getting struck by lightning? Boy jumping into a lake? Distorted shot of an amber studio lot? These are all things you should know.
Then the movie itself actually starts. There are the opening credits. The mood is being set and now you must accomplish the hardest feat in all of movie going, something I like to think I excel at: suspension of disbelief. Like the man said, you have to accept that or nothing that follows will seem magical or wondrous.
Give in to the movie; suspend your belief that it is fake. Watch, and trust the filmmakers. One immediate difference between a good and a bad movie is if the filmmakers betray your trust, if they pull you out of the movie. If you are not there with the main characters despite your best efforts, they have failed you.
You need to make that effort, though. If you’re not there trading war stories about your scars in the bottom of the boat at night after too many drinks, if you’re not just as desperate to try and get the beer back from Texarkana despite the fact that Smokey is on your tail, then it’s your fault.
If you simply can’t accept that the Smokey has two brothers, one of whom is a Mountie, that he can call in at a moment’s notice with hundreds of other cars to help him out, well, that might be the filmmaker. But give it a try, you have to.
If you can do that, and the filmmakers don’t betray your trust, well, then you really have something. The movie just washes over you and you can bask in the wondrousness of what you’re witnessing. You are there. You are communing with the people that gave this incredible gift to you.
For me, there’s nothing like it. Give me a never-ending bucket of popcorn and bottle of water, a never-ending series of movies that don’t betray my trust, a catheter, and I’m in.