Ever since I was little, I’d crane my neck during a movie and look at the projector. The rapid sputtering spitting out images at what seemed to be the speed of light generating images on screen made it come off as magic in my young eyes. I’ve done this every time I’ve gone to the movies. Thinking back on it, with a little Freudian introspection in the mix, I’ve never missed an opportunity.

My guess as to why I repeatedly do this is I still feel the projector is magic and looking back at it with my body comfortably engulfed in my reclining chair, my hands fistful deep in a bucket of popcorn, and my eyes glued to the screen is the last part that completes my personal movie theatre experience…and let me tell you, I’d miss it the way I’d miss a long-distance friend. Our region is full of amazing movie viewing spots like this so let our list of movie theatres in Buffalo Niagara get you excited to view that next flick.

As anyone who’s read a few of my articles will know, I’m not really for corporate chains, I’m more of an independent grassroots support type of guy. Still, if I’m going to be honest here, when it comes to movie theaters, the majority of my time watching movies was spent at the Elmwood Regal 16. Like I’ve said, I’ve been going there since I was a kid, so I’m completely and utterly bias.

There’s nothing special about it, however, in a time where your modern theatre chain has lazy boy recliners with heat-sensitive sauna’s for your butt, touchscreen soda machines that seem to have every flavor from here to Japan, and some type of SUPER IMAX (whatever that is), the Regal 16 only has the recliners.

However, I still love it like it had all those other amenities and more.

The Regal makes up for its shortcomings with its own panache (note this could very well be my own nostalgia talking). The moderately strong whiff of buttered popcorn as I walk in the door, the garish neon lights that seem to be a bit too bright hanging right above the entrance. The line rail that seems to be connected by some sort of seatbelt material, that for some strange reason always makes me a bit uncomfortable. Buying my ticket at the booth from someone who always seems to be perpetually uninterested to the task at hand. Going to the food area to buy overpriced popcorn. Watching the person at the counter scoop the golden fully formed kernels into a thin paper meant to make it easy to hold (it never helps; popcorn always spills from the top even if you have the lightest touch or a kung fu grip). Then they douse the popcorn with some butter that I’m convinced comes from the movie gods (or some corporate-sponsored lab in the desert somewhere). Then they slide it on the smooth counter surface that is so smooth in fact you might think this place was a bar for a moment. The person behind the counter then asks me, “cash or credit?” And my heart starts to race a bit because I know my wallet or bank account is in for a swift beating, but I pay it regardless because who doesn’t get popcorn when they go to the movies? 

I finally get the popcorn in my hands and instantly get a measure of guilt so immense I could pass for a Catholic. Having my ticket half-heartedly ripped by an usher, who in the back of my mind I ask myself after receiving the ticket back: “what is it you do? You don’t even walk me to my seat. You just rip my ticket, repeat the number of the room on the ticket, and tell teenagers to take off their hoodies.” Then I go down the maze-like hallway, trying to find the room number in which my movie is showing (it never stops being an annoying exercise when it really shouldn’t be).

I open the door that seemingly weights 6 to 8 pounds and instinctively look around the room. Even though it’s usually pitch black (I’m rarely early to screenings. I’m not a fan of playing “Guess who played in this movie, or which two A-list stars had a crush on each other in the summer of 1997?” On the big screen, while the person who half-heartedly ripped my ticket continues his or her streak by half-heartedly sweeping the floor), I try to find a semi solitary spot unless I’m with a group. Making my way to my desired seat, I try my best not to disturb those seemingly camped out on the recliners, with their blankets and, in some cases, pajamas in full view.

I finally find my desired seat and promptly plop down, ready to enjoy the show, but already grateful for the mini journey it took me on just to get to this point.

My movie theatre experience probably mimics thousands of others, and I’m so glad to be a part of that club because for those that used to go to the movies, it was a sanctuary. A place that was at one time wholly familiar and constantly changing with new attractions. A place where you didn’t mind paying 8 dollars for a hot dog because even if it tasted like expensive trash, you knew that eating it in your chair while watching that big beautiful screen would, for some unexplainable reason, make it taste amazing!

More than anything, I miss that magic the theatre sucks you into as soon as you go through those doors. That feeling of disbelief it wraps you in until the credits roll is just something so special. In my opinion, it transcends the corporate aspects and the lazy workforce (I’m not saying your all lazy, I’m sure some of you work very hard and I appreciate you) and just leaves this feeling of going to see an old friend.

So I just want to say with all my heart I miss you and I hope to be seeing you very soon. Plan out your next movie outing with our list of movie theatres in Buffalo Niagara.

LONG LIVE CINEMA!