A BROOKLYN SNAPSHOT

I have a certain way of doing things when it comes to movies. For one, if I miss even one second of the beginning, the whole thing is ruined. I don’t know where this came from, but it’s ingrained in me now.

The second thing about me, when it comes to movies, is that I need to get lost in the world being projected — not necessarily for an entire two hours, but, you know, at least for a little while. If I can’t do that for whatever reason, the whole thing is ruined. I don’t know where that came from, either.

John and I went to see Crazy Heart the other night, and apparently, the four women behind us were not aware of my needs at the cinema. They talked incessantly; their desire to watch the movie seemingly dwarfed by their desire to become meta-narrators.

“Oh look,” said one, in an accent that was either South Brooklyn or Central Jersey. “He’s falling on the floor.”

“Mm hmm,” said another, over and over again, during one scene where Jeff Bridges was describing how his character’s son was not interested in getting to know his deadbeat dad. “Mm Hmm. Mm Hmm.”

Halfway through the movie, we stood up and ran to grab a pair of seats at the very back of the theater. I could finally enjoy — get into — the movie, but I was bothered by the idea that these women got away with it. That they went home oblivious to the fact that their behavior was unacceptable, even towards people who don’t have complex rules about watching films.

On the subway ride home, I looked over John’s shoulder at the exact moment a young Latina woman began throwing up into her jacket. I couldn’t help but stare; it looked like she ate Chef Boyardee for dinner. But when she lifted her head, rolling her jacket up into a ball in her arms, she very clearly smiled. I was the only person watching, and she thought she got away with it. Only a few seconds later, however, when the train stopped at Hoyt–Schermerhorn and twenty-five more people boarded the car, the satisfied look on her face fell. She actually mouthed the words, Oh shit. A woman sat down besides her and then immediately moved away. The young Latina sank in her seat and hid her face. She knew.

There are too many people in this city to get away with anything.

Photo: William Self