We'd been wanting to see Spiderman 3 on the big screen ever since it came out May 4th. But between moving and rental preparations, we just never got around to it. So when we looked last Friday and found that it wasn't playing at any of the major theaters near us, momentary panic ensued. Had we missed it? Were we doomed to watch this special-effects extravaganza on our 32" TV? Please, please, say it ain't so.

Then we found a listing at a dollar cinema, Beltway Movie 6 in northeast Baltimore. Seemed promising, but I was skeptical. No stadium seating? Only six theaters? What kind of place was this, anyway. I promptly turned my nose up at the very idea of setting foot anywhere near this so-called 'theater.'

But C was insistent. Which meant this was not a thing that was open to discussion. I don't mean to imply I didn't have a choice in the matter. Clearly, my choices were: Spiderman 3 at Beltway Movie 6 or a lifetime of quiet pain and suffering.

Going to the 'dollar cinema' these days will actually cost you somewhere in the ballpark of $3.50. Still, seven bucks for two people - I actually thought the guy had made a mistake when he quoted me the price. Seven bucks? It seemed entirely improbable. Maybe he hadn't realized C was with me. When you pay seven bucks for a movie, you tend to have low expectations about the quality of the theaters. Especially when you've come to see twenty bucks as the norm. I figured the theater would smell of sweaty little kids. I figured my shoes would stick to the floor. I figured I'd be greeted by a cold damp seat cushion, a gift from the prior occupant's spilled coke.

But all those expectations turned out to be wrong. The theater was really well maintained. It even smelled . . . good. And the layout of the entire building was refreshingly simple. You walk back to the ticket taker and there are three theaters on the left, three on the right. And you can see every movie title from that one vantage point. No endless, labyrinthine hallways. No need for a compass and plenty of water. Wow. So quaint. I'd almost use the word 'cute.' It lifted my thoughts right out of 2007 and all its worries and set them quietly down smack dab in the middle of 1984. I thought of the great movies I'd seen in places like this. Indiana Jones. Cloak and Dagger. This was escapism at its finest. And the movie hadn't even started yet. Hell, we hadn't even sat down. I'm a dollar-cinema convert.

And the movie? It was great. A bit sappy, even for a Spiderman movie. But holy crap there were some incredible effects going on. The Sandman stuff was great.

The only down side of the evening turned out to be the crazy old man who sat down behind us just as the trailers started. He had a long white beard which lay like a grizzly old blanket over his extended belly, right down to his navel. I could hear several of the kids in that row whisper the word 'Santa Claus.' "That's right kids, I'm Santa Claus. So you better be good during the movie, or no gifts this year." He had a sharp, cigarette-tinged voice. If Kris Kringle had retired from gift-giving to drop acid and dance naked back in the 60s, then this might have very well been him. But I had a hunch this was somebody altogether different. The only thing he had in common with Santa Claus, aside from his beard of course, was his booming voice. He made loud sarcastic comments during the movie, laughed (loudly) at inappropriate times, and insisted on yawning (again, quite loudly) anytime things slowed down a bit in the action. C came very close to saying something to him, but we figured engaging this man might make it worse for us in the end. So we put up with it. Mostly, the movie was loud enough to drown him out, anyway. We got our money's worth, and some.

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