I like to get involved when I watch a movie. I like to feel with the character, hold my breath during moments of anticipation and cry during moments of sadness and joy.
That did not happen with The Life of Pi. Not because of the movie itself but because of the cinema hall.
First of all, we were in row H. I thought, “Hmm! Not bad.”
We were in the third row from the screen. There were only ten rows in all.
A couple that came late, walking in when the movie had already begun. They had seats at either end of row H. In the true spirit of adjustment, the usher asked all of us to move one seat.
I felt as if we were in a bus.
The whole row got up and moved, next seat, next seat, next seat. So that the couple could sit together.
Children squabbled, laughed and shouted in the rows behind us. Even then, I tried to get engrossed. I tried to enjoy the beautiful 3-D graphics. I tried to get into the mood.
Finally, I felt as if I could actually hold my breath in wide-eyed anticipation.
And then, a child ran up to the screen and lifted his hand into the three-dimensional Richard Parker’s face and yelled, “Ey, haath dikhta hai kya?”
I gave up.