Waiting in the cinema lobby was
the first bonding experience for us, the audience of Amy; those that tried to
enter the screen before the showing time were halted by a bald, bearded man in
a suit and loafers and shooed away to our holding area of stools. It was quiet,
peaceful even, compared to the atmosphere of a chain cinema although slightly
more pretentious to make up for it. Once ushered in by the same bearded man
with loafers it felt rather cozy in the screen, dimly lit, naturally. Jazz
music filling the air although apparently sounding louder on the right than the
left, no cup holders though, despite being able to buy drinks in the lobby. The
hushed French chatter around me creates an air of sophistication however we are
obedient when the lights dim further. There’s a pleasant feeling in the
audience as the film begins, waiting in anticipation, curious to learn about
this singer’s life; people begin to get emotionally invested. Disapproving
tsks, saddening sighs, chuckles here and there. I can’t quite pinpoint it but
those spectators seemed more mature than the average cinema goer, and not just
because we were the youngest there by 20 years or so. Something else that was
interesting to note is just how much of the audience stayed for the credits,
the entirety of the credits (whether that was out of choice or just politeness,
I don’t know). With the lights not being raised there was no indication of when
it was time to leave. Cue a clumsy exit in the dark to meet the bearded loafers
guy outside once more.
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