Named for a French film film of the 1930s, the Grand Illusion is a tiny jewel box of a theater that sits at the corner of University Way and 50th Street in Seattle's U District. Though attendance is sparse (and I don't think the theater hold more than 75, anyway), it's one of my favorite places to catch a movie in Seattle.
We were running late for tonight's showing of Knife in the Water, but Amy V, Michael, and I sprinted down the block in an effort to get there before the film rolled... only to find a locked door. Squeezing through the attached Starlife on the Oasis Cafe, I found two volunteers in the projection room, but the film wasn't running. It was late, no one had shown up on time, and they weren't going to show the movie for a grand total of three people who would only have had to pay ten bucks all together (with Tuesday being Member Mooch Night, Amy would've been free since Michael and I are members).
And really, I can't blame them. And I wonder how many times this has happened before, and I wonder again why so few people come here. Shouldn't the local college kids be lapping this stuff up? Art house flicks and bizarro late night shows on the weekends? The fact is, other than the annual It's a Wonderful Life Christmas party viewing (which, perhaps not coincidentally, is free for everyone), I don't think I've ever seen more than ten people in the audience, and even ten is a stretch.
So instead of spending an evening reading subtitles, we wound up drinking bubble tea at nearby Pochi while playing Yahtzee with a random assortment of dice. Not what we had had in mind, but hey, still a chance to get out. And Amy and I are considering trying the 9pm showing tomorrow... and this time we won't be late.
Showing posts with label bubble tea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bubble tea. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Strawberry Fields Forever
Rutabagastories ground to an unexpected halt last week as our internet connection faltered. After much testing, Michael, with the help of his techie friend Howard, determined that the modem is at fault. Qwest has agreed to send us a new one, but for the moment I'm utilizing my housemate's computer.
It's funny how dependent we are on the internet these days. Had I not had access while at work, what would I have done? Emails, not phone calls, make up the majority of my long distance communication with friends, and nearly all of my current information on the outside world comes to me via the world wide web (or office gossip; there are some things that never change).
On Monday Michael and I pursued the more old-fashioned activity of going out to a movie. Entering the tiny Grand Illusion Cinema on the Ave, paying with check instead of credit, and sitting down to watch Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries in the well-worn theater seats made me feel more than a little nostalgic. With the whir of the film reel heard faintly behind us, and specks of dust making split second appearances on the screen as the story unfolded, this seemed the perfect way to view what is inherently a nostaglic movie. Seeing Professor Borg reminisce over mostly painful memories, yet somehow be able to move beyond the hurts of the past, including the many he himself created, both saddened and uplifted me.
After the showing, Michael and I went to Pochi for a late night bubble tea. Slurping tapioca up through a straw, listening to the Blue Scholars on the cafe stereo system sing about The Ave, I remembered the two of us sitting in this very place years before, following another movie at the Grand Illusion. I used to feel that my life revolved around the U District - I worked there, hung out there, went shopping, and went to church all within a few blocks of University Way, although our apartment was a couple of miles to the east. Years ago, when I first heard the Blue Scholars, I could relate - the Ave was my street, too.
These are mostly good memories, though, and I hope when, in my old age, I look back on my life I will be able to face fewer regrets than Professor Borg. With this new-fangled internet, I'll even have a digital record here to remind me. Unless, of course, the modem breaks down again. Maybe then my memories will return as surreal dreams, but for now I just want a reliable way to get back online.
It's funny how dependent we are on the internet these days. Had I not had access while at work, what would I have done? Emails, not phone calls, make up the majority of my long distance communication with friends, and nearly all of my current information on the outside world comes to me via the world wide web (or office gossip; there are some things that never change).
On Monday Michael and I pursued the more old-fashioned activity of going out to a movie. Entering the tiny Grand Illusion Cinema on the Ave, paying with check instead of credit, and sitting down to watch Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries in the well-worn theater seats made me feel more than a little nostalgic. With the whir of the film reel heard faintly behind us, and specks of dust making split second appearances on the screen as the story unfolded, this seemed the perfect way to view what is inherently a nostaglic movie. Seeing Professor Borg reminisce over mostly painful memories, yet somehow be able to move beyond the hurts of the past, including the many he himself created, both saddened and uplifted me.
After the showing, Michael and I went to Pochi for a late night bubble tea. Slurping tapioca up through a straw, listening to the Blue Scholars on the cafe stereo system sing about The Ave, I remembered the two of us sitting in this very place years before, following another movie at the Grand Illusion. I used to feel that my life revolved around the U District - I worked there, hung out there, went shopping, and went to church all within a few blocks of University Way, although our apartment was a couple of miles to the east. Years ago, when I first heard the Blue Scholars, I could relate - the Ave was my street, too.
These are mostly good memories, though, and I hope when, in my old age, I look back on my life I will be able to face fewer regrets than Professor Borg. With this new-fangled internet, I'll even have a digital record here to remind me. Unless, of course, the modem breaks down again. Maybe then my memories will return as surreal dreams, but for now I just want a reliable way to get back online.
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