Lessons Learned From 2 Years as an Angelika Film Center Employee
Stories, Observations, and Celebrities — Oh My!
Blame My Roommate, Tyler
His name really isn’t Tyler, but he was my roommate during undergrad — both of us were initially Computer Science majors, but bailed out. Me first to English and Creative Writing, Tyler into Film. Getting a degree from our University would be an accomplishment in and of itself, so in some ways, choosing an artistic major was pretty bold. We did have family support, and with that, got to work.
Tyler used his connections to get a job at the Angelika Film Center. Then he helped me get an interview and hired on. Thank you, Tyler, for the stories that are about to follow. You may know several of them, or get a laugh out of some of the things I’m going to mention, and I couldn’t have these memories without you. You are a True Friend and I’m glad we are still in touch.
In The Belly of the Beast
Working at the Angelika was both grunt labor and high-minded critique. What I mean is at our location, staff learned and fulfilled multiple roles depending on the shift. Box Office. Concessions. Usher.
The only job that was out of the question was Projectionist, because they were essentially the Airplane Pilots of the theater. From time to time we would help out “in the booth” but only under extremely tight supervision. Have you seen a proper film reel up close and in person? They’re massive.
Point being, from selling tickets to popcorn to sweeping up — and miscellaneous other things you’ll discover later — most of the job is pretty basic. The catch though, is that with actual film circa 2003–2004, a feature length film came in a couple locked cans. The Projectionist assembled the large reel, pictured above, and would watch it in an empty theater late at night. We called them “Tech Screenings” and, if there was interest or free time, Employees were allowed to join in.
What the theater got by giving us this perk is a staff that became knowledgeable, talked about reviews and impressions, and could be really helpful to customers. We had some “in-kind” agreements with Cinemark and could swing free tickets, and their employees could come to our place too. During my stint, I had the good fortune to work among numerous Art Institute of Dallas students: Animators and Concept Artists. Neat folk. Opinionated as hell.
Welcome to “The Entertainment Industry” — You’re Working Christmas
So in my years of various hourly jobs in Texas, an “At-Will Employment” state, one thing stands out regarding film theaters. Technically you are an Employee of “The Entertainment Industry” and therefore it is up to the Theaters whether they want to give “Holiday Pay” rate. They don’t. Actually, they expect your ass to be there for at least one shift on Christmas.
December 25th is National Jews Go To the Movies Day
Other than retail stores for last minute “Oops” purchases, Chinese food joints, and movie theaters, what is there to do on Christmas Day if that religion isn’t yours? Or, even if you are a Christian, maybe having two hours to just have them shut up in the dark is worth however much it costs. These are family traditions that go back decades, and it’s kind of endearing.
Humans are Gross
Working the Concession stand really teaches you a lot about marketing psychology. By now, most people know the theater makes its money on margins for concessions, the Movie Studios basically getting all the ticket income on a favorable sliding scale (more on that later). Unlike the Alamo Drafthouse (and Studio Movie Grill MBA knock-off) featuring food and drinks, the Angelika did have a basic downstairs cafe and bar.
Oh, and at the time, you could turn around from the Box Office and within range of throwing a tennis ball, you could hit 4 restaurants with bars.
We didn’t sell alcohol upstairs, but people could bring a plastic cup from downstairs into their screening if they wanted. We dished out the usual. Popcorn and sodas. A Large Popcorn and Soda combo? Over $10.
There is something jarring about watching a very overweight — basically obese person — order a “Large Buttered Popcorn, Extra Butter, and a Large Diet Coke” with a straight face. Really? A Diet Coke? That bag is a heart attack and a half with all that coconut oil — what, you scared of diabetes?
I did learn the art of making the best, most juicy, yellow, delicious popcorn ever during some experimentation on morning shifts. At first I thought it was the popcorn salt that added the yellow color and taste. Ruined probably 5 batches before I figured out that was wrong.
It’s the oil. The popcorn popper has to be primed with some oil, and it’s on an auto-dose trigger. It’s coconut oil by the way, solid at room temperature. We heated it with a metal stick in 5 gallon metal buckets. It’s strangely similar to the bags of fat from liposuction seen in “Fight Club” and no I’m not sorry for making that observation.
The trick is to over-do the oil. It usually takes one pump to prime, then the kernels pop and come out pretty naturally. In my system, prime as usual, wait for the first pops, then dose again. It slows the popping down, but when it finally catches, it’s a much quicker boom. Hit it again, so as the hot popcorn is pouring out the bucket while being stirred, the oil coats it one more time.
The downside is that by working Concession, washing off the smell of popcorn takes some effort.
In Texas, people have their own slang in some ways. Yes, I do understand this takes place in other areas of the US — as evidenced by a tall, backpacker / homeless traveller in Downtown Dallas asking me “Heyaaa is tha a Charlie Bus anywhaa around here?” and I had no fucking clue what he really meant, but I stupidly pointed him toward where the free shuttle bus picks up people.
Then when I got back to my computer, I looked it up. Huh. Charlie on the MTA. Oh, I get it!
As I’ve also worked as a Waiter, I know this by heart:
Me: What can I get you to drink?
Customer: I’ll have a Coke.
Me: What kind?
Customer: Dr. Pepper.
Makes no sense, right? Up past the Mason-Dixon they use terms like “soda” or “pop” or the actual name of what they want. Nope, not here.
At the time, the Angelika Film Center was based in New York and, through smart business, singed a deal with Pepsi. Our sodas were Pepsi, and Dr. Pepper. You see, Dr. Pepper is to Texans what Faygo is to Juggalos.
So this is an exchange that is forever burned into my brain, no matter how much time a Customer waits in line or how many Pepsi signs are put up:
Angelika Concession: Hello, what can I get for you?
Customer: I’ll have a large buttered popcorn and a large Diet Coke.
Angelika Concession: Pepsi ok?
Customer frowns and suddenly looks at the pictures on the soda fountain.
Customer: Dr. Pepper.
People asked for Sprite and we had Sierra Mist and it always got the most “Whatever, I don’t really care” looks.
The funniest damn thing about this, to me though, is stubborn Texans hearing the word Pepsi and making some kind of twisted face. I mean, offer somebody a glass of straight pickle juice and you’d get the same reaction. “You really expect me to drink Pepsi?!” That’s why the Angelika was smart — they had Dr. Pepper. I’m a Root Beer guy myself (my parents didn’t want me on caffeine, surprise surprise) and the Mug was on tap as well.
As I’ve gotten older I can understand preferences like that. I’m a Miller Lite guy and if they suddenly sponsored me I could probably afford to lease a nice used BMW with the budget flexibility. There is no way that if Bud Light offered me the same deal I could take it — I just…no…
Two Very Different Celebrities, Both Gracious
The first real, in-the-flesh celebrity I saw at the theater was Chuck Norris. One of his Sons is involved with charities, some religious organizations, with a focus on doing things for Children. To support his Son, Chuck Norris and his Wife attended the Private Screening of the Son’s film. The screening was to raise money for Children’s charities, so yeah, the right kind of reasons.
Chuck is not a large man. I’m not a large man and I could easily see over the top of his head, even seeing his awesome Doc Martin type boots had at least a 2" sole for lift. His presence, by comparison, was truly epic.
After the screening, as the attendees left the theater, they gathered in the very large, high ceiling lobby. Kind of a reverse red-carpet, if that makes sense. The last people to exit the theater was the Norris family.
Walking with his wife, Chuck Norris parted the crowd of people like Moses parted the Red Sea. For a guy known for violence, his smile was one of the brightest, most encouraging, awesome things to witness. Mad respect.
At an event, a tie-in with some fashion or film company at the time, the one and only Jane Seymour visited. By then, I’d already seen “Somewhere In Time” on late night cable, drunk probably, at least once. I have a DVD of it currently, if you’re really curious. While I’m not a homosexual, I can certainly see the appeal of one Christopher Reeve at the time. Throw in a “favor” of a Soundtrack that, from time to time, I hear on elevators, and yeah, after you read this, go give it a chance.
Without question, Jane Seymour is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in real life — considering how sensitive Actresses are about aging, and the timing of seeing her around 2004, I was genuinely star struck. Sure, she had a great make-up artist that prepped her for the visit, but how she held her head, how she moved, how her eyes took things in — she’s special.
As with Chuck Norris, Jane Seymour was gracious, polite, and, I kid you not, over-the-top patient with otherwise drooling moron fans. 10+ years later, I read a Willie Nelson autobiography / collection of stories that had one gem of advice:
Always act like you’re famous, so if you actually get the chance, you don’t screw it up by not knowing how to behave.
— Willie Nelson (paraphrased)
All this fits together to understand why people in the Industry love Tom Hanks. Apparently he’s — get this — a really nice, down-to-earth guy who just so happens to have a day job where he’s paid $10 million for 9 months of 16–20 hour shifts to pretend he’s somebody else. Is it an accident that Bill Paxton is the only guy to ever be killed by a Terminator, an Alien, and a Predator? No. Why?
Because Bill Paxton, recently deceased if you may not know — was the consummate Texan Artist. He was extremely professional when on the clock, and, by all accounts, a wonderful person to be around. The proof is in his career. James Cameron is well-known to re-hire talent he likes, and Bill Paxton earned his entry into that club for sure.
Point being, I’ve met so many “Wannabe Stars” over the years that I genuinely appreciate just being a Stone Cold Pro. If you’re in the Creative Arts, you might feel me on this. When you come up the hard way, it’s great to keep in mind the people who helped you get there.
Owen & Luke Wilson and The Angelika Cafe Chef
Let me break it down real fast — Wes Anderson’s first film, “Bottle Rocket,” is on par with “Dazed and Confused” in that if somebody wants to talk trash about the quality of either, they goin’ get a five finger knuckle brisket sandwich. Those are films that helped put Texas on the cinematic map, and they’ve earned their respect.
Having good taste in actors like Matthew McConaughey and the Wilson Brothers certainly helps. The Chef at the Angelika Film Center Cafe was the Mom of one of the boys that grew up in the cirlce — Wes, Owen, Luke, and a few others. Her Son is in “Bottle Rocket” and she allowed the film crew to use the family home as a set as well.
Unfortunately, I never got a chance to meet or even see Owen or Luke Wilson, and they were actually quite frequent. Word got around among us Employees. Every time Owen or Luke were at the theater, for whatever event, they snuck down to the Angelika Café, found the Mom of one of their buddies, and gave her a hug.
You know, just because.
No, I Will Not Clean the Ladies Restroom
Until you’ve worked at a large, public, semi-classy facility with 20+ stalls, you might think that Men are terrible to clean up after. That’s not true in the least, because in a large Men’s Restroom, like in a Movie Theater, there are about 10 urinals to help things move quick. Men actually just want to get it over with, and unless they’re wasted on booze or pills or simply insane, they’ll use whatever toilet possible, maybe wash hands maybe not. Simple.
Women, by comparison, have all sorts of hang-ups and issues I can’t begin to describe. Scared of germs? There’s a handy protector thing on the wall, heck, add on some toilet paper over it if needed, right? Maybe. But 1 out of 10…over the course of a weekend, they start to add up. It becomes a pattern.
The way I’m going to deal with my germ issues is to stand here and spray my waste in the general direction of the toilet, clean myself, and leave anonymously in the crowd.
— Female Customer at Movie Theater
It’s a little hazy, but overall there was a standing rule that Men weren’t to clean the Women’s Restroom without at least one Female Employee at all times within sight. Well, that made things easy, because none of the Men wanted anything to do with cleaning the Women’s Restroom. The Women told us everything we needed to hear and more.
No matter the gender though, we all suffered through some the occasional Rich 40-Something White Guy / Socialite Old White Lady who was drunk as fuck and somehow manages to puke in the one hallway in-and-out of the theater. On the carpet. At 8:17 on a Friday. Way to go, jackass! I’m sure as a Managing Director you make Merrill Lynch really proud at company parties.
Kitty litter and/or sawdust usually gets the moisture, which is perfect if it’s just a puddle of booze. It’s when you realize they went to Del Frisco’s and had the Tuna with Field Greens and three Martinis around 4:30 earlier in the day and that pile is going to smell in a hurry if we don’t get to work. At least one person is going to have to be on their hands and knees to get this job done.
INTERMISSION: RANDOM OBSERVATIONS AND/OR STEREOTYPES
- 30% of Customers, Friday through Sunday, would pretty much be “Walk Up” business — they’d pick a film starting kinda-sorta soon, maybe grab a drink and wait an hour for something really interesting, so actually being able to recommend things made a difference in their experience.
- At the Box Office, always be sure to tell people when a film is in a foreign language and subtitled — nothing personal, but some people really have trouble or don’t enjoy reading their Film.
- The MPAA is a bunch of Old White Religious Prudes and their ratings are total bullshit — Gore can get a PG-13 while something beautiful like “Y Tu Mama Tambien” gets an R shows they’re fucked up, fuck them, may their afterlife consist of nothing but “Team America: World Police” puppet sex on a loop for eternity.
- We almost got in trouble for how many Employees + Friends showed up, drunk, twisted, messed-up, and ready to laugh at the Tech Screening of the first Jackass movie, the day before it came out. Maybe about 50 in total. It was a print to be shown over at a major theater, and they didn’t have room for the Tech Screening, but we did, so, yeah, one of the few times in my life I’ve cried from laughter.
- Every Race and/or Culture has positive and negative stereotypes to me based on personal experience — even though I’m not a Homosexual Man, during Gay Film Festivals, I took my fair share of unwanted and occasionally lewd advances and shrugged it off.
- Working an Usher Night Shift, we always enjoyed winding down, knowing we wouldn’t have to clean the theaters after the last showing — the night crew, a Latino Man and Woman, would take care of things. Once the last Customers were out, he would bring in his gas powered Echo Leaf Blower and go through the theaters one-by-one. We liked them.
- If you’re a kid with no money from a broken home and with a friend, if you really love movies and it shows, buy a ticket and spend your entire Saturday watching whatever you want, sneak around politely, maybe even change your shirt just to keep it real. Be cool, and you can stay. We feel you and maybe one day you’ll return the favor.
- Directors and Music Labels should pay attention, very closely, to the music picked for when the Credits roll. I learned this at a theater before working for the Angelika. If it’s a great song, like Moby’s “Extreme Ways” from The Bourne Identity then it will live forever and spread via the employees sweeping and cleaning up after Customers. If it’s bad, like the Polar-Opposite-of-”Supergroup” that did the tune for Spiderman, then it shouldn’t be surprising that grunts might not have a high opinion of the fat marble mouthed redneck from the band Salival teaming up with Chad “I’m not a grocery store goddammit” Kroeger of Nickelback. I’m surprised it wasn’t used at Guantanamo Bay Camp X-Ray.
- Crowd control is an acquired skill, and even moreso when you know the 350 seat showing of “About Schmidt” is sold out and some rich old white couple (they always are) think they can save four seats for their friends by throwing a purse, a scarf, sunglasses, and a napkin in the middle of a row. Usually within 15 seconds the Whipped Spouse (gender not important) would kind of look away, embarrassed, at the scene their partner was making. Body language is cool like that, because it’s a lot of fun to dress down a multi-millionaire whose friends are going to have to sit in the front row if they ever bother showing up, and, surprise, instead of sitting next to their Country Club pals, they’ll get the worldly experience of sitting next to some Guatemalans who wear way too much perfume.
- Yes, it’s cold when you get into the 350 person theater, but in 35 minutes, when all 350 of you humans emit the heat of an incandescent 60 watt bulb (give or take, depending on your girth), it'll warm up from 67 to 73 degrees, and I know this, because I have a digital thermometer that I shoot at the wall on the regular. Or, as Johnny Utah might say:
Utah: You’re cold because all the blood’s running out of your body, Roach. You’re going to be dead soon. I hope it was worth it.
If You Ignore Me, Enjoy Being Scarred For Life
This is the ultimate story, the one where all of this rambling about taste and film and art and stuff comes together to be relevant in modern times. You see, to be a great Cinema Employee means not only loving films, but taking the time to actually watch them. Somewhere between being a Critic who does it for work and an Apprentice who does it for Love and Investment.
Working the Box Office meant being front-and-center for 70% who knew what they wanted to see, and 30% who walked up. Of the latter 30%, about 5% had no idea that the Angelika Film Center showed indie flicks. There’s a reason “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” stuck around for more than a year, showing only once on Saturday and once on Sunday — the Studio had recouped its money and so every ticket sold was actually profit for our location, and it was repeat business that made that film a success. Remember the sliding scale I mentioned earlier? Normally films don’t last long enough to make a theater any money in the business model, but “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” broke a lot of records.
In that regard, it was very, very easy to recommend a film like “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” to walk-up customers. I still haven’t watched it front-to-back, but have caught enough to understand the endearing, charming humour in it. Let’s switch gears as hard as humanly possible. The other end of the spectrum is Gaspar Noe’s “Irreversible” which arrived at our theater one season as UNRATED. They didn’t even bother submitting it to the MPAA. Why?
It would’ve have received the dreaded Rated X.
Tyler and I went together, as a form of mutual support, and watched that fucking thing from start to finish. Every single second. It took effort.
Here’s the trailer:
So I can tell you we had multiple signs up regarding the film. UNRATED meant it was extremely graphic, we would not sell to anyone under the age of 18 as company policy, and there would be No Refunds. 98% of the people who bought a ticket from me for “Irreversible” knew exactly what the fuck they were getting into. You could see it in their face, like about to get on a roller coaster or jump out of an airplane. They knew.
As for the other 2%, the one that stands out the most was a late 20s/early 30s white couple on what, by all appearances, was a date night. Probably a second or third, based on their body language. They didn’t see anything starting soon based on the board, except “Irreversible” and that’s what they picked. It was a slow moment — all the other screenings were running mind you (we didn’t want people stumbling into “Irreversible” by accident) so it was basically lonely me telling these two people they should pick something else. I tried every trick I had to deal with the situation.
Me: Honestly, this is a really graphic movie that is way beyond anything like “Pulp Fiction” — it’s UNRATED for a reason.
Dude: Hey, we’re experienced! We know film!
Me: I’ve seen it. Trust me, it’s not what y’all want tonight.
Dude: Oh, so you know better than us? What do you think Babe, should we listen to him or should we go see the movie? Okay, we’ll go see the movie!
Me: Two Adults, “Irreversible,” 9:15 showing. No Refunds.
Around 10:30 PM, that couple came back to the Box Office, their entire psyche shattered by watching a graphic rape scene in a Subway tunnel, because I knew that’s about the time it happens in the film, because I watched it, and I sat through it to eventually see something even more fucking disturbing later on. They wanted a refund.
All that bullshit posturing and talking down to me because I was just some jackass punching buttons, taking cash, and handing out tickets to them? Well fuck y’all too. I’ve learned how to ask questions of the people I’m paying for help, whether on a Zip Line or an oil change. I can maybe learn something if I act nice, because if I act like that White Dude and his Babe, then I just might fuck up my own life in ways I never imagined possible.
There’s a Rainbow at the End of this Story
Tyler and I worked together, lived together, worked on art together for about 2 years solid. That Ryan Gosling knock-off is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, but has his own awesome quirks. He mastered the ability to listen to somebody describe a bad situation (re: puke in a hallway) and respond, cool as a cucumber, “Hmm! That sounds like a real problem. Somebody should take care of that! I’ve gotta go over, uhhh, there.”
And *poof* Tyler skated away from having to sponge up puke. Cheeky bastard that one, but lovable. He got the black Angelika coffee mug we found cleaning the theaters, and I got the tan Angelika coffee mug.
In the corner of the Management office, there was a big cardboard box. Full of movie posters. Films we didn’t even get. That’s why I have a “Freddy vs. Jason” poster and you probably don’t. The big deal though was for posters for films we DID show, and that one or more of us REALLY LIKED.
As a tribe, we worked together.
So, whoever really liked “Chicago” was probably going to end up with as many posters as they wanted. We could all tell “About Schmidt” was a big hit and the poster might sell for some cash later. Something like that, or “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” would disappear into Management pockets before we ever got a shot.
Now and then though, there were exceptions. Mine was “City of God.” I can still remember coming in on a Sunday morning, on my free time, for the first showing in Theater 6, and having Kai or Devin radio up to the Projection Booth that I was going to be the only person in the screening so TURN IT THE FUCK UP. I’m pretty sure that was my fourth or fifth viewing.
Best Sunday Morning of my life with my clothes still on.
Here’s the trailer:
I told everybody I could to go see that film and I never, ever once had anybody tell me they were disappointed in it. Hard to watch? Sure! Intense? You bet!
So it came and went for its run…and then got nominated for Four Academy Awards, which justified a real push to get it back into theaters. We got new prints. New posters. A giant banner to display in the lobby.
You know why I look back on my time with Tyler and my Angelika Film Center co-workers so fondly? Because they went above and beyond. Sure, I got both “City of God” movie posters, everybody knew that was *my* film. For my birthday though, they gave me the banner. Check out the pull quote.
Epilogue
I love films, and Tyler helped me get into them in ways I never imagined. In turn, I was the Oscar to his Felix, and we are both better off for it. Somehow the Angelika Film Center managed to survive and weather the rag-tag misfit staff and is one of the mainstays of serious Cinema in Dallas (props to Magnolia and Inwood) compared to hipster bullshit concepts like Alamo Drafthouse — ohhh no texting?
What a bold statement! Meanwhile sweaty Waiters hustle to sell $8 draft “craft” beer like Blue Moon and $12 Tostitos with shredded cheese, sour cream, and some reheated chicken they call nachos.
So Artistic. Much Integrity. LOL.
I’m sorry, there’s something fucked up about everything that comes out of Austin, Texas — why is it called The Alamo Drafthouse? The Alamo is in SAN ANTONIO. Why is it in Dallas now? It’s almost as gross as Austin trying to claim Stevie Ray Vaughan when he was born, raised, and bought his goddamn guitars in Dallas. I’ve never seen a fucking vending machine advertisement as a stage in Dallas, but leave it to Austin…
Does it sound like I’m a little *too* passionate? Let me break it down — I love the Creative Arts and when I set out to make something in them, I’m going to put everything I got into it as much as I can. Even if it skirts the edge of sanity.
When I feel comfortable sharing my opinion about another piece of Art, whether Music or Film or Writing, I’m uncensored. If we get to talking, by coincidence or chance, and we find out about each other’s interests, what I recommend to you comes from a very deep, studied place. The knife cuts both ways though, and I’m more than comfortable heaping Praise or Derision as I see fit.
Then, I go back to my workshop and try my best to achieve that which I feel capable. It’s a long and lonely road, according to many. On the contrary, I am the most at home making my creations in my workshop, whether a patio, my garage in the middle of the night, or via notes on my phone.
One of these days, I hope to return to the Angelika Film Center for a premiere of a film that I wrote. Aim for the Moon, and if you miss, you still end up among the stars…right?
