If you and your loved ones are still debating whether or not it’s time to return to theaters and leave the safety zone where you’ve been harbored for the past year, might I suggest starting with the simplest of creature comforts? Emphasis on the “creature”.
In this age of wall-to-wall summer action blockbusters and the multiple temptations to entertain ourselves at home for cheap, we have a hard time getting out there to see and support the obscure, scrappy little films whenever they air in the precious few local theaters that bother to screen them. On rare occasion my wife and I will find spare moments to make the long trek to the one art-house theater on the opposite side of Indianapolis if something tempts us on a not-so-busy weekend. Nine out of every ten experiences have ranged from pleasant to surprising to thrilling.
It’s been a while since we’ve run up against that tenth out of ten films. As soon as it opened here in town, we made an appointment with Anthropoid because films about World War II are usually her cup of tea. This time, not so much.