I don’t have a car. It’s dreary and cold. I want to go to the movies.
But with the Logan Theatre still out of commission, the closest alternative within walking distance to my apartment is the Regal City North 14. No problem, mainstream first-runs are fine and dandy—I’ll never be too highbrow to watch Kate Beckinsale trudge through another Underworld or check out a trio of angsty teens wield alien-gifted telekinetic powers. I’m just happy to be entertained—using my brain isn’t as important to me as it once was.
So understandably, I made it a short-term goal to marvel at Liam Neeson battling blood-thirsty wolves in the barren Alaskan landscape.