Pocono Cinema

When I first moved up to the Pocono Mountains in February, the Foxmoor Outlet Mall was shut down for winter, waiting for tourist season to come around again. The empty mall echoed with the sound of a local radio station playing from loudspeakers mounted on each building, as we walked past dark shops and approached the lone open establishment at the other end of the mall, the movie theater.

After seeing The Hurricane there with my parents, as a handful of moviegoers left the theater, we chatted with the owner while he bottled water from the filtered concession dispensers to take home. Mr. Ripley spent a quiet two weeks here and left just as quietly, he responded when I mentioned a movie I would like to have seen.

Back when he could afford to, he used to show good movies he wanted to show, alongside the usual Hollywood drek he had to show. However, he told me about a theater ten miles away that shows independent films. Last night and the night before, I drove out there to see all three movies they were playing.

The Pocono Cinema and Coffee Shop near East Stroudsburg University charges $5 for students, $8 for the public. The coffee shop sells pastries like a cake made with Snickers bars and raspberry cheesecake. Each tiny table has a game or two like a chessboard or an Uno deck. I like that in a place.

Seeing The Cider House Rules interested me in reading the John Irving novel, which everyone says was superior to the film. I generally prefer to see the movie then read the book since that’s usually the case (though some say American Psycho may be a rare exception to the rule). No doubt a lot had to be cut out to condense it into a two hour movie.

It was a nice melodramatic orphan‐meets‐world coming‐of‐age movie with John Irvingy characters starring Michael Caine and Tobey whatsisname who was in Pleasantville. Lays it on a little thick, but not too thick. Manages the good trick of taking a strong stance on abortion while still playing it safe. (Perhaps if it were more controversial and didn’t stack the deck heavily in its favor, it would have fared better. Picketers do wonders for box office receipts. I saw the fine film The Last Temptation of Christ perversely because zealots wanted me to be unable to.) An American moral about making your own rules which I may think back on. If Tobey does another movie like this, I may start remembering his last name.

Boys Don’t Cry was a movie about the well‐publicized rape and murder of transsexual Brandon Teena, but one old man in the audience of four didn’t seem to realize that. It looked like his university student son dragged him in to see it. During several scenes, Phhhht!, he would loudly suck in his breath through his teeth. During the hospital examination scene, he muttered that he didn’t want to see this and left the theater for a few minutes. And when the shot blew Brandon away, he oh!’d disappointedly like he still expected everything to work out in the end somehow. Selfish audience members can make a film all about their personal reactions.

I might have gone to see American Beauty just because I like Kevin Spacey’s work. Since my best friend raved about it, I was eager to see it as soon as I saw the title on the marquee. (We usually like the same movies. I think we’ve only disagreed on Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.) Unfortunately, I missed its first run, but I’m glad I still got to see it on the big screen.

Without going into too much detail, it starts out as a dramedy about dysfunctional families. As the players lay bare more and more of their dark (yet beautiful) souls, it becomes wickedly funny. Then some skillful juxtapositions smack you upside the head with what you’ve been laughing at. Every character at first appears to be a stereotype, but turns out to be more. The same might be said of the movie. A sudden, unexpected profundity lingers after the movie is over. Two hours well spent.