The reel VS real: What to watch or eat?

The swanky entrance. Red carpets and the works. We settled in watch.

The film looked promising, even to a self-styled film critic like me.

Twenty-five minutes later, a large family occupied the row ahead. Everyone wanted to sit next to the newlyweds. No permutation worked. After much musical chairs, the couple sat apart.

The cute, chubby boy demanded caramel popcorn. His mother, seven seats away, snapped at him. He refused to surrender.

Others joined the food queue. I suspect they were Punjabis. They had also missed two brutal murders, one before their arrival, one after.

The film had jumped timelines seven times. EIGHT YEARS AGO. SIX MONTHS LATER. YESTERDAY.

Don’t filmmakers realise audiences have food orders to place?

This family, however, was firmly in the PRESENT MOMENT.

I now had two films to follow: a murder mystery and a live sequel to Hum Saath Saath Hain.

The courtroom debate was getting fierce when the interval arrived. The family’s debate was equally fierce: what to order.

One feeble female voice protested, “We’ve already had four large popcorns at ₹790 each.” Nobody cared.

I rushed out to the counter to beat them. Their order could take an hour.

Nobody came. Instead, I got a lecture on fancy teas. The counter guy struggled with one simple request: desi chai.

PVR doesn’t serve it.

I returned to find two servers in conference with the family. The film resumed. Suspects were being examined. The family was still examining the menu.

Ten minutes later, the servers returned for clarifications.

The defence lawyer was losing patience. The family was losing patience. I was losing patience.

Then three servers arrived with the buffet.

The main suspect was declared innocent. The court ordered a re-investigation.

The eldest member investigated whether everyone had received an equal share. Two senior members began fighting over the bill.

Financial disagreement, it turned out, was the real motive in both films.

The movie ended. The family complained that the corn was too spicy.

The entrance promised royalty. The exit offered a terrace and a fire-exit staircase that felt more like a service shaft.

“Royal treatment on arrival. Fire-exit treatment on departure.”

OTR FOOTNOTES:

By the way, PVR does serve a movie too.

Perhaps cinemas should reserve the front rows for movie-watchers and the back rows for food connoisseurs.

Next time, I’ll sneak in my own teabags. Hopefully, PVR can manage the boiling water

LAST SIP:

He was a dude. After marriage, he was subdued.

All OFF THE RECORD!