Last night I decided to take my girlfriend out to dinner and a movie. Nothing unique about that, right? I told her I was taking her out to a movie, but I didn’t tell her which movie. I wanted it to be a surprise. All I told her was that she had seen it before. Lucky for me, I have an open-minded girlfriend and she was a game.

So, after dinner we walked over to the Belcourt, the old theater in the heart of Nashville. I’ve mentioned this before, but the Belcourt is the best movie theater in the city. The screen isn’t that big, the seats not too comfortable and the sound sucks. But all of these imperfections are wiped away by the fact that when you sit down and the lights grow dim, you are absolutely whisked away. There is such a sense of history with the Belcourt. The place has been there since 1925 and you can feel it every time you walk in. There are no ushers and it isn’t some souless, 27 screen multiplex with the latest Tom Hanks film. Two projectors are all you get. A rather ragtag fellow with an unkempt beard and black-framed glasses sells you your tickets and no one is there to rip them. Sometimes the same guy who sold you the ticket has to mosey over to the concession stand to sell you a “bucket” of popcorn and a dark, tasty lager. So unassuming and spontaneous. I love it!

My lady and I walked up and into the theater and I handed the guy sitting at the window the tickets (I purchased them earlier in the day so as not to ruin the surprise by having to announce what movie we wished to see when we arrived). The gentleman looked at my tickets and without tearing them, nodded his confirmation. My girlfriend and I walked over to the concession stand and bought refreshments. On this night, someone was actually working behind the stand — a short blond with a perky demeanor and light blue leg warmers. It was only after we received our refreshments and turned around that my girlfriend saw what movie we were going to see.

“Are we going to see It’s A Wonderful Life?”

“Yes. Is that okay?”

“It’s wonderful. I haven’t seen it in so long. Perfect choice, honey.”

Well, that was a relief. A small part of me worried that she would think it was corny. Why see a movie that you have already seen twenty times before? But she was elated and that calmed me a bit. However, I did wonder if the movie would feel stale to me. I mean, I watch it nearly every year around the holidays and this year they have been running that lasso around the moon scene in the Kay Jeweler commercials ad nauseam. Perhaps I would find myself squirming in my seat and glancing at my watch, cursing myself for thinking this would be a fun experience. Would this be the slowest two hours of my life?

To my surprise the theater was nearly full. These days DVD players can be purchased with pocket change. DVD movies are extraordinarily cheap as well. However, all of these people had the same idea as me. They wanted to see the film on the big screen. Not only that but they wanted to see it in this old theater, this home away from home. Another surprise was the family that sat next to us. A man and his wife brought their two kids, and in my eavesdropping I discovered that the kids had never seen the film. What an experience! Not only were they seeing the movie for the first time BUT they were also seeing it for the first time on the big screen! They were seeing it the way people saw it when it first came out 60 years ago. I envied those kids because I knew that if they were film lovers like me, this night would stay with them for the rest of their lives.

The lights dimmed, the sound came up and I was gone. Glorious black and white, beautiful music. There was George Bailey and Mary and Uncle Billy and old man Potter and Mr. Gower. I’d seen this film so many times. Remember back in the day when it was public domain and every television station in the city ran it? How could you miss it? But none of those times could add up to last night. A chill ran through me while I watched the film. I felt a certain kinship with the people around me, like we were all sharing this experience together. I heard them laugh and even heard sighs during certain scenes as if they were waiting for these particular moments. And when George Bailey runs through the little town of Bedford screaming Merry Christmas to every passerby, I felt my grip tighten over my girlfriend’s hand. For a brief moment that elation that came with my childhood Christmases was inside of me once again. It was a great feeling, and for the first time this holiday season I felt the spirit of Christmas all around me. Sounds corny, I know. But it’s true.

“The End” appeared scrawled across the screen, the lights came up and the whole theater erupted in applause. Imagine that. Everyone there, except for those two fortunate kids, has probably seen the movie just as many times as I have, but it seems they were imbued with the same feeling I felt. It was an applause of appreciation. It was an applause of thank you. Thank you, Jimmy Stewart. Thank you, Frank Capra. You reminded us of the pretty things in life.

I felt rejuvenated walking out of that old theater. For two hours I was lost in another world. A better world. It was idealistic and sentimental, but who cares. Without idealism and sentimentality we’re dead.

The Belcourt may have saved my Christmas this year. It washed away the Bah Humbug and left a bit of romantic hope.

Little sidenote: From January 3rd to February 27th the Belcourt will be showing 30 Janus Films. This includes films by Hitchcock, Fellini, Kurosawa, Polanski, Bergman…. I’m saving my pennies. Once you experience the thrill of seeing a classic on the big screen, you find yourself quite addicted. I want to feel that rush over and over again.

Oh, one last thing.

Merry Christmas to all…and to all a good night.