For your convenience...

There was a time, not too long ago, when a trip to the cinema meant much much more than sitting in a crowded multiplex with a pot of stale popcorn. No, I don’t mean the days of silent movies accompanied by live music, but the heyday of cinema as was: the mid- to late-eighties. Many a Saturday afternoon would find me and a group of equally directionless pre-teenagers patiently queuing for whatever the matinee was that week, not particularly because we wanted to see the film, but because the whole ritual of cinema-going was, for those people at that time, the highlight of the week.

Waiting for up to an hour, whatever the weather, outside the Priory Cinema in a small town in deepest darkest East Anglia, it was only a matter of time until somebody produced a threadbare tennis ball, which invariably spent more time in the road than on the car park-cum-football pitch. Even more inevitable was Old Mother (our name for the most elderly of the aged team of ushers, not hers) threatening to ban us from the Priory if we didn’t queue quietly, as soon as the ball hit the window for the first time that afternoon.

Upon final entry to the cinema came the biggest dilemma of the weekend: what sweets to buy. Would it be a box of Fruit Pastilles (remember the boxes they used to come in?) or a couple of chocolate bars (usually out of date Lions and Kit-Kats)? How about a small box of popcorn? Sweet popcorn at that time was still a luxury found only in the mythical multiplex cinema in nearby Cambridge, which was just too far for our meagre pocket money to take us. By now I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m trying to say, and more pertinently, is it worth it? Well bear with me, for all is about to become clear.

No matter how long the film we were watching, and no matter what was happening onscreen, Old Mother and her projection room cronies would stop the film exactly halfway through to enable us to refill our drinks and buy more popcorn. None of us ever did, however, because we were all queuing (quietly this time) at the front of the cinema – queuing to buy an ice-cream. It didn’t matter to us that said ice-creams had melted long before the film had started; we weren’t allowed sweets at home so we made sure we had our fill where our parents couldn’t see us.

Regardless, the ice-cream and the state thereof is not really important. My point is that the ice-cream break was just as much a part of the trip to the cinema as was the film itself. So when I hear that Warner Cinemas are introducing a ‘convenience break’ midway through Return of the King, my heart leaps for joy. Could it be that this move – which has caused outrage in many circles and has led to many threatening to boycott Warner for the film if not forever – could this herald a return to what was, for me at least, a golden age of cinema? Reticent as I am to admit it, the answer is sure to be no. Warner has realised that a significant proportion of the audience at Return of the King will, despite their greatest efforts, find themselves unable to remain comfortable for the four hour running time, and so the break appears to be a good idea. The move has been seen as very cynical marketing by lobbyers though, as many people will use the time to buy more food and drinks and line Warner’s pockets in the process.

The main argument against the convenience break is that many people will not return in time for the restart of the film, and will therefore disturb those who were already in their seats. This is really no different to what already happens every time someone leaves the auditorium, and the argument seems rather hollow. If people don’t want to buy a second tub of popcorn, nobody is forcing them to, and while Warner cannot deny having a vested interest in introducing the break, ultimately it is to everybody’s benefit as the audience need no longer miss any of the film they have paid so dearly to see.

Nevertheless with most films ending an hour or so before Return of the King, it is doubtful that Warner will make their move a precedent. With profit margins as high as they are per cinema-goer, the cinemas cannot risk anything that will drive their customers elsewhere; I fear that yet again I am to be denied my long-awaited melted ice-cream.