So many movies are entirely about wish fulfillment. It makes a lot sense, if people leave a movie having gotten everything they wanted they'll have a better feeling about what they've just seen and how they've spent their money.
Last night was one of those rare occasions these days when I actually get to go to the movies, and it was all about wish fulfillment. Not quite purposely, but it was.
You see, I did make it to Indiana Jones, and for the wife it was a toss up between seeing Henry Jones Jr. and Carrie Bradshaw, so we saw Carrie (don't worry, I don't have to hand in my card, I went out and bought Rocky – The Complete Saga Collection yesterday too). And the film? Yup, all about wish fulfillment (at this point we're going to be talking about where things wind up at the end of the film, so there may be some “spoilers,” but as the end was obvious at the start I'm just not sure how spoilery they are).
The entire point of the two and a quarter hour endeavor was to make these women happy, to get them what they've always wanted, and what much of the audience has wanted for them. I sat there for two and a quarter hours, watching these women do their fumbling with life and love (it's not always their fault that the ball gets dropped), knowing the entire time where they were all going to end up.
The series itself wrapped up happily, so upsets had to be manufactured for the women. And, they were manufactured, but never with any sort of doubt that happiness would be achieved by the end of the time. There was never any sense of true danger that anyone would break down into tears of upset just as the final credits were about to roll. Can you imagine the yelling and screaming in the theaters if the four women hadn't been happy at the end of it all?
Oh, don't get me wrong; it was fun enough, and I laughed a couple of times, but the wish fulfillment bothered me. It well and truly bothered me.
You see, there I am at the theater, a place I hardly ever get to, and there was one thing I really wanted from the outing – Sno-Caps. That's right, Sno-Caps.
You know what I'm talking about, those delicious semi-sweet chocolate pieces covered with white nonpareils. Oh, they're fantastic, and it's not like I'm going to go out and buy Sno-Caps to eat at home. No, those are a movie theater treat, and not even every time you go to the theater, those are special occasion treats (babysitting last night was free, hence the special occasion).
And, it was with the Sno-Caps that my wish fulfillment came to an end. The movie hadn't even started, and my wish fulfillment came to an end. I went to an AMC theatre, and they don't have Sno-Caps.
That's right, no Sno-Caps.
I would have taken Goobers. No Goobers. I would have even suffered through with Raisinets. No Raisinets.
What in the world sort of weird, unacceptable deal has AMC worked out where they don't have Goobers, Raisinets, or Sno-Caps? Apparently, they have some sort of exclusivity deal with Hershey. They sold all manner of Hershey chocolate, but nothing from Nestle, and it's Nestle that makes Sno-Caps, Goobers, and Raisinets.
I can't be more emphatic about this people – that's not acceptable; that's not okay. There's no equivalent to a Sno-Cap on the Hershey side; there's no equivalent to a Goober or a Raisinet, and so there's no way that I'm going to plunk down four of my hard-earned dollars on some other chocolate. Sure, I like Reese's Pieces, but if I want a Sno-Cap, Reese's Pieces aren't going to fulfill my craving, and it's ludicrous to think that they would, simply ludicrous.
I want to see numbers. I want to see how much AMC gets from there Hershey exclusivity deal and I want that weighed against the lost profit from people not buying candy because there are no Sno-Caps. Probably AMC still comes out ahead monetarily, but there's a certain amount of patron upset and anger that needs to be factored into the occasion too. From now on, if I want Sno-Caps, I'm not going to go to an AMC theatre.
If so many movie experiences are about wish fulfillment, I want someone to consider my wishes. I want a world where Junior Mints and Raisinets can live side-by-side (and I can't fathom why AMC sells Junior Mints which are made by Tootsie Roll Industries, but they do). I want a world where Goobers can be eaten with reckless abandon immediately after downing a box of Whoppers. I want a world where I can eat a handful of Sno-Caps and wash it down with a half-dozen Reese's Pieces. Oh sure, it would make me terribly, terribly ill to eat all that stuff in a single sitting, but if the movies are about wish fulfillment, I want to know that my wishes can at least be fulfilled even if they're not.
Yes, I'm happy for Big and Carrie, but I really want to know what happened to my Bit-O-Honey.