I don’t go to many superhero movies. They always make me wonder how I’d look in spandex.
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I had two hours to contemplate that awful thought on a recent summer evening, at the Holiday Twin Drive-in in Fort Collins. A friend had recommended the new Superman movie. Is there a better place to believe a man can fly, than to watch him do so under the stars?
I have a long history with drive-ins. And not a proud one. As a high-schooler, I occupied trunk-space with a cooler full of beer as my pals sneaked me into a showing of “Chesty Morgan in Deadly Weapons, at a drive-in in Bridgeport, Conn.
Everything is wrong about that, I know.
The drive-in was a creation of the automobile age. Four thousand plein air movie palaces opened in the 1950s and 60s. Now there are only about 400 of them left in the U.S. Our Holiday Twin is a gem, nestled in the shadow of the foothills in southwest Fort Collins. When I piloted our car down the rutted dirt driveway, I wheeled back in time.
When I was a kid, my parents used to invite me to put on my pajamas before we hit a cartoon feature at the drive-in. One moment I was laughing at Wile E. Coyote, the next I was waking up in my bed the following morning, with stray popcorn kernels in the folds of my pajamas. Is there any better feeling than being a semi-conscious child who is tucked into bed after an exciting day?
Thanks for that, dad.
Late last summer, my wife and I arrived at the Holiday Twin at dusk, to get a good parking place and visit the snack stand. We qualified for the senior discount ticket — only $9! — so neither of us had to ride in the trunk. And I bought the beer-and-brat special, to fully support this fine cultural institution. It was a festive crowd of parents and kids, here for non-threatening family fare on the big screen. Near the snack stand, a young woman sold arrangements of wildflowers. By the time the feature began, she was sold out.
Who says romance is dead?
The screen flickered to life at 9 p.m., showing cornball announcements that were probably filmed during the Cuban Missile Crisis. The message was clear: this entertainment exists beyond time, beyond worry. I turned the car ignition to auxiliary mode, and the dialogue came through loud and clear.
Only, it wasn’t Superman. That was the second feature. So instead we were subjected to yet another origin story out of the Marvel Universe. Did we really need to know about the birth pangs of The Fantastic Four?
I now know that their superpowers are stretchiness, invisibility, flammability, and grumpiness. I experience all of those things whenever I attempt home repairs. My wife’s favorite special effect is Pedro Pascal, who stars in just about every movie we see now. Which may not be a coincidence.
Pascal plays the brainy and benevolent dad in the movie, trying to protect his infant son from yet another bad guy bent on destroying Planet Earth. Haven’t we seen enough of these hero-fests to know that destruction ain’t gonna happen? At least in the movies. I’m not so sure about the real world. But that’s exactly why we went to the drive-in: to escape.
Eventually all the derring-do was done, and the final credits rolled. It was now 11 p.m. My wife and I exchanged meaningful glances. There would be no second movie for us that night. We should have worn our pj's.
We still haven’t seen the new Superman. But the Holiday Twin drive-in is open until the end of October, and darkness falls a little earlier every night.
Maybe we can stay awake for the second feature, next time.
