“No Popcorn, Please” | The Armchair Blog
Movies to me are like food – some are nutritious for your mental health while most, you’ll agree, are not. Take this weekend for example. There’s Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer – your meat and potatoes. There’s the documentary Lakota vs. United States which would be your vegetables. And there is Barbie, which is definitely your dessert. Most weekends are not this well-balanced.
My plan this weekend it to take in Oppenheimer first, Barbie later. Lakota I’ve already seen so I think I’m doing it in the right order. My mental health appreciates it.
Which brings about an interesting point. I have a rule for myself. There are certain movies to which I do not partake in popcorn or other snacks. For me, it feels a little strange to be sitting through a dead-serious drama like Oppenheimer and shoveling handfuls of popcorn into my mouth.
This was a feeling that began seven years ago on a Tuesday night when I went to see Moonlight. Barry Jenkins portrait of a young African-American man discovering his identity and his sexuality while traversing the highways of a very difficult life is a solemn experience. Not to judge, but I looked sideways at the couple down the aisle from me who had selected this movie and accompanied it with two bags of popcorn, nachos, chicken wings, candy and over-sized sodas. “This is NOT Independence Day,” I thought. Again, I’m not judging but matching all that food with what is on the screen seemed a little unbalanced.
The movies, at their best, bond with us. There in the dark, movies like Oppenheimer and Moonlight, lower our defenses and we give ourselves to someone else’s vision. They are a cerebral experience that challenge what we know and what we feel. For me, it just feels a little odd to go through that experience with a flimsy tray of nachos at my elbow and popcorn in my lap.
There is one exception – the drink. I forgive my appetite for junk food at a movie like Oppenheimer for something to drink because I am going to be in the theater for at least three and a half hours, given the length of the film, the commercials, the trailers, Nicole Kidman, the theater alerts about exits and cell phones, and whatever Maria Menouos is blabbering about – to which I usually take one last chance to visit the john.
Now, I’m not preaching. This is just a personal thing. You go get all the snacks you want for whatever movie you choose. But for my well-being, and my mental nutrition, I’ll bypass the heavy salt and sugar for a movie about the father of the atomic bomb. I’ll take full advantage of the snack counter next week when I go back for Barbie.
About the Author: Jerry Roberts
Jerry Roberts is a film critic and operator of two websites, Armchair Cinema and Armchair Oscars. 
