You have watched every horror movie this year alone on a couch, pausing to check whether anyone else saw that. Here nobody has to check. A whole theater flinches on the same frame, somebody three rows back laughs at exactly the wrong moment, and the laugh turns out to be the best part of the night.
For two weeks every fall, the genre crowd of Los Angeles moves into the Egyptian and the Aero and treats premieres like prizefights, with the filmmakers on stage afterward and late shows that start at 10:15 because nobody in this room is going home early. The regulars buy the marathons first. This year a Robert Eggers all-dayer sold out before most people finished reading the lineup, and opening night went with it.
Most of these films will reach a streamer eventually. None of them will play to this room again, and the stranger beside you in the lobby already has a list of the next ten things you have to see.
September 23 through October 5, American Cinematheque, tickets sold per screening.
You have watched every horror movie this year alone on a couch, pausing to check whether anyone else saw that. Here nobody has to check. A whole theater flinches on the same frame, somebody three rows back laughs at exactly the wrong moment, and the laugh turns out to be the best part of the night.
For two weeks every fall, the genre crowd of Los Angeles moves into the Egyptian and the Aero and treats premieres like prizefights, with the filmmakers on stage afterward and late shows that start at 10:15 because nobody in this room is going home early. The regulars buy the marathons first. This year a Robert Eggers all-dayer sold out before most people finished reading the lineup, and opening night went with it.
Most of these films will reach a streamer eventually. None of them will play to this room again, and the stranger beside you in the lobby already has a list of the next ten things you have to see.
September 23 through October 5, American Cinematheque, tickets sold per screening.
You have watched every horror movie this year alone on a couch, pausing to check whether anyone else saw that. Here nobody has to check. A whole theater flinches on the same frame, somebody three rows back laughs at exactly the wrong moment, and the laugh turns out to be the best part of the night.
For two weeks every fall, the genre crowd of Los Angeles moves into the Egyptian and the Aero and treats premieres like prizefights, with the filmmakers on stage afterward and late shows that start at 10:15 because nobody in this room is going home early. The regulars buy the marathons first. This year a Robert Eggers all-dayer sold out before most people finished reading the lineup, and opening night went with it.
Most of these films will reach a streamer eventually. None of them will play to this room again, and the stranger beside you in the lobby already has a list of the next ten things you have to see.
September 23 through October 5, American Cinematheque, tickets sold per screening.