Sestina to the Movies

Salty and awash in butter, popcorn

goes from bucket to tongue in the glowing dark

of the theater. My mind focused on the film

as I try to sip Coke and discern inscrutable wisdom

at the same time—or perhaps just watch explosions.

I sit in homage to the filmmaker’s art.

It’s true, not all movies aim to be art—

There’s the summer flicks aiming at popcorn

sales; the movies with fewer words than explosions;

teen comedies reallymade for an excuse to be in the dark

with a date, because conventional wisdom

holds that drive-ins aren’t actually about the film.

I do have fond memories of those films.

We don’t always want capital “A” art.

Sometimes we want to fling away wisdom

and just sit down with some friends, drinks, popcorn,

and see James Bond dodge explosions,

or watch mutant sheep prey on farmers in the dark.

Ultimately, those innumerable hours spent in the dark

watching the good, the bad, and the ugly of films

did a lot more for me than kill time with explosions,

laughter, or explosion-inspired laughter. They taught me what art

can be, for all people. For Roger Ebert and the popcorn

chewers, for the gulpers-down of laughter and the devotees of wisdom.

And films can bring wisdom,

carrying us forward from the dark

to illumination in moments when the popcorn

rests, forgotten, in the bowl. All those films

that molded me, revealed to my nascent mind the nature, the art,

the exultation and sadness of humanity, entered my world as explosions.

Occasionally, violent. Often shaking. Explosions

opening passages as TNT and making wisdom

where before unconnected tracks butted mountains. The art

that Coppola and Kubrick brought to the dark

of the cinema, or that my first favorite film

brought to my VCR as I, unanticipating, munched popcorn.

It’s funny how popcorn and art

can complement each other, how films in the dark

can have so much wisdom—and really cool explosions.