I still haven’t seen The Odyssey. I would like this understood as a scheduling problem, although the more closely I examine my schedule, the less convincing that explanation becomes.
I want to see it. Christopher Nolan has adapted Homer, Matt Damon has gone to sea, and the reviews have given me every reason to expect something impressive. I am sure it is very good. My admiration is currently proceeding without my attendance.
Meanwhile, some of Gen Z has already found time to debate whether the limited availability of IMAX 70mm makes the ideal viewing experience too exclusive. Videos of the 4DX screenings have supplied another attraction: moving seats, wind, water, people apparently having a difficult time remaining in possession of their popcorn.
This is the version I want. I want to sit in the dark and be subjected to weather. I want the evening to require leaving the house and to reward me for having done so. There is something appealing about an experience that can interrupt my thoughts quite so physically.
Unfortunately, before the chair can move me, I have to move myself.
There is a cinema to find, a screening to choose, someone to ask. I begin considering these things, discover that the ideal time is slightly inconvenient, and decide to look again when I am less busy. I then spend an amount of time on my phone that would have accommodated a respectable portion of the Trojan War.
I suspect I have made too much of the occasion. An ordinary screening would require me to buy a ticket. The experience I have imagined seems to require the agreement of my entire life.
Still, I keep saying I’m going. I mean it each time. Somewhere there is a seat prepared to throw me about at sea, and I am at home, finding the booking process a little much.
