Staying on the Dublin Road, I give you the Movie House. As the picture indicates, that is literally it's name. That's not why it's my default cinema, though (proximity to
Auntie Annie's is, naturally, a benefit.) Why then is such an unremarkable cinema my first choice? The answer is twofold:
- It carries many memories of a better time.
- It isn't Yorkgate.
Yorkgate (or City Side as it's recently been re-branded) is a hole. It's clientele are predominantly wreckage of human condition. After the incessant laughter of a group of giggling teens ruined
The Mist, I vowed never again to
tred its sticky floors. Giggling teens are one thing when they're laughing at the destruction of their own in a horror flick, and quite another when they're the shell-suit shysters
indiginous to North Belfast, wholly incapable of understanding Darabontian excellence. The newly arrived
Odeon is impressive but steep. Unless the movie in question demands particularly technocratic treatment, I'm willing to pump yet more credits into the Movie House's coffers.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna check out tonight's
Watchmen availability at the
Odeon. No
Watchmen for sick Ian? Cold, I laugh at thee.
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