Lights, Camera, Action........

I have had two very different experiences of cinema in Naperville this week. On Sunday we drove out to a large gleaming multiplex where the young workforce wore red floppy hats not seen since the days of Max Sennett. (Hope they are paid extra for the embarrassment).
Ticket prices, I am delighted to say, are half the price of English ones. As we dithered over which film to choose, the young boy (I must be getting old) at the cashier's desk, said we could have a discount, so we paid just $20 for two of us to see two new films. Inside the cinema was quite spacious, probably because we were two of only about six other customers. The seats were more comfortable than in England and we had a great time watching.
On Monday the experience was quite opposite, but equally fascinating. My new best friend Jane (note how I am now changing names to protect not only the innocent but also myself - you know how litigious these Americans are) took me to the Tivoli Theatre in nearby Downer's Grove.
The Tivoli looks like it sounds. It is a beautifully restored art deco cinema complete with a working piano that sinks into the stage before the film commences. Every other Monday night it is taken over by the After Hours Film Society, whose aim is to show films not easily available in the Western suburbs.
This usually means foreign films or arthouse movies. This week's offering was The Italian, which I hoped would show picturesque scenes of Italian vineyards and happy go lucky Mediterraneans at play.
The opening grey scenes of a bleak snowy orphanage made me think that maybe I had the wrong film. It turned out to be the miserable story of a little Russian orphan who is awaiting adoption by an Italian couple. Unfortunately he never makes it there because he runs away to find his real mother first. In case I forget to mention, it was in Russian, with English subtitles.
Now don't get me wrong, it was a good film, but what is with these Russians? It was like a Chekov play, where the characters are wandering around looking for Moscow before they die a mile away from the city gates. Don't they know how to have fun? (I have actually met the odd Russian and they are always fun, so I don't know what has happened to their film industry). Just before the end, the little orphan boy slit his wrists, something which I'm sure the entire audience were considering by that point.
Next month they are showing Venus, the film for which Peter O'Toole was Oscar nominated this year. Initially I couldn't understand why they would choose it as it certainly isn't an arthouse movie. Then I realised it is English, which I suppose is a foreign film out here. I'll be first in the queue...