We have this movie theater across the street from our apartment called Regal Entertainment Group United Artists Court Street Stadium 12. We call it "the Reej." Being in or around the Reej generally gives me a feeling of hopelessness for the long-term prospects of New Yorkers, Americans, and human beings. So, I either keep my distance from the Reej or fully prepare myself each time I am about to go in it or near it.

Like a 10-story, argyle sock looming over the historic brownstones of Brooklyn Heights, the Reej is a total abortion. It's got to be one of the ugliest and most misbegotten buildings in all of Brooklyn. The mega-developers who erected this monstrosity, slapped it together with the cheapest materials they could find. The exterior is made up of some weird type of customized vinyl-ish siding that's supposed to mimic bricks and brownstone and fit with the neighboring 19th century buildings. When the theater went up in 1998 there was all kinds of opposition to it but it was hopeless from the get-go. The developer who built the Reej owns this part of Brooklyn and no elected official was going to stand in the way of economic development on what had been a nasty vacant lot for many years.

If there's a big blockbuster in town crowds begin queuing up in front of the Reej before 10:00am, with the edgy, slightly narcotized anticipation of homeless people waiting in a soup kitchen line. This morning's $10 serving was Charlie's Angels. As predicted by the NIMBYites who fought it, the Reej has turned the surrounding neighborhoods into a Cineplex parking lot. Sport Utility Monsters roll in from all parts of Brooklyn bearing couples on dates. Last night I caught myself staring at a Chevy Avalanche parked illegally across the street from our house. A 6,000 pound, plastic Tonka toy that gets about 10 m.p.g., the 'Lanche has got to be one of the ugliest and least functional cars ever to roll off the Detroit assembly lines. It's stunning that our culture has produced a set of desires (or, "a market") so demented that my neighbors are moved to acquire these expensive and destructive pieces of crap. And, on top of that, they're totally proud of their expensive and destructive pieces of crap. The bigger and uglier the better.

Once evening comes, crowds pour out onto the street at regular intervals until about 1:30am. Teenagers shout, car alarms are activated, doors slam, engines rev, and stereos blast. It's a little bit brutal but doesn't bug me too much. The car alarm thing is particularly amazing. There is a vast number of motorists in Brooklyn whose 125 dB car alarms blast every time they open their door or turn on their engine. What the fuck is wrong with these people? I mean, forget about urban civility and bugging your neighbors. Why would you yourself want to live with that? Why wouldn't you try to figure out how to fix it? I'm guessing that it actually makes people feel secure to hear their Viper, Cobra or Hellfire automobile security system wailing every time they activate their vehicle. Or car alarms and stereos are some sort of modern day mating call and the louder they are, the better. At any rate, the total dementia of New York City car culture is fully on display outside the Reej.

That being said, if we're going to see a Hollywood blockbuster, we generally see it at the Reej. We don't have a functioning television in our house, so the gigantic vinyl building on the corner has become our own personal idiot box. Last night we saw The Hulk. The movie is filmed kind of beautifully but is essentially a piece of shit and not half as interesting as the Reej crowd. I once sat next to a guy with a huge, packed duffle bag on his lap. It occurred to me that the guy was either homeless or a terrorist. And even though a packed Christmas showing of The Two Towers seemed like a really ideal moment to launch a massive act of urban terror (not just the name of the movie, but the fact that an X-mas day movie in Brooklyn is packed with more Jews than synagogue on Rosh Hashana) I decided to just move seats and not get a SWAT team involved (I also decided to tell my woman that I thought there was a guy with a huge bomb in the theater but that I wasn't going to do anything about it. Needless to say, she didn't enjoy The Two Towers).

At the Reej, people smoke blunts and drink beer. People answer their cell phones in the middle of the movie. The conversation usually goes something like, "I'm in a movie call back later." Then louder, "I said I'm in a movie, I can't talk right now..." You get a lot of conversationalists at the Reej, people who seem to have come for a nice, air-conditioned spot to chat with friends. Last night I had a prominent screen-talker and seat-kicker directly behind me. Every so often he'd notify the audience that "My man Hulk's gonna fuck up that cracker." Or "Shiiiiit, here come the federales." And "Now for the coop de graw [a.k.a. coup de grace]." Amazingly, the woman next to the screen-talker got pissed at the bag-rustling screen-talker directly behind them. Even more amazing, all of these idiots were 35-years and older. They weren't rowdy teenagers. These were their stupid parents. In fact, the talkers had kids with them and the kids seemed quiet in that embarrassed sort of way. So, maybe there is hope yet, at the Reej.


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