Upon Seeing "Avatar" Twice

.
Soon after it appeared in Turkish theaters, Nancy and I attended a screening of the motion picture Avatar. I don’t know if our experience represented the norm for all movie houses here, but I want to share our first movie experience in Turkey, another slice of the unique pie that makes this place so intriguing. Here is your guided tour:
.
First, you must find a movie theater. Most large shopping malls feature small cineplexes, but some movie houses can be found in older areas that cater to the evening crowd. The former are easy to find, the latter not as easy. We chose the latter, funkier variety.
.
You will enter the theater through a narrow passaji (corridor); above the entrance will be a small, badly illuminated marquee announcing the films currently showing. You will buy a ticket for an assigned seat, as one might expect for a concert hall or opera house. You can expect to wait in a small gathering space with no concessions. Most ticket holders will choose to wait outside, where they can smoke. When the previous audience has exited the theater, you will be allowed in to find your seat. Ushers will guide you. (Since this was a blockbuster film, if you got a bad seat, too bad; every seat had a butt in it.) The screen curtain will open and the film will begin at the advertised time.
.
Exactly 90 minutes later, no matter what is happening on the screen, the film will suddenly stop without warning. The house lights will come up, the curtain will close, and the majority of the audience will arise and leave the theater to pee, check their phones for text messages, but mostly to go outside and have a smoke. Meanwhile, tray-bearing vendors will ply the aisles, selling candy bars, gum, stale, unsalted popcorn, room temperature cans of soda, hot tea, and bottled water.
.
After a certain interval, the house lights will dim, the screen will re-open and the movie (backed up a few frames to help the viewer get reoriented) will resume without notice, whether the audience has returned or not. Hence, there will be a parade of late-returners reeking of smoke, leaving a muttered "pardon" trail as they step on your toes while blocking your view of the screen.
.
At the end of the film, as soon as the credits and digitally-manipulated orchestral postlude begins, the screen will go black and the audience will begin to exit. Want to know who wrote, composed, directed, etc.? Too bad: time to hit the road, Jack. You will leave through an exit different from where you entered. You will emerge on a back street behind the theater and follow the crowd (remember, there is safety in numbers, ask any schooling fish) to the nearest main thoroughfare. You will squeeze past people seated at tables along the sidewalk eating dinner, drinking and smoking, playing backgammon, etc.
.
We attended the same film in Germany two weeks later, this time wearing those uncomfortable 3D plastic eye abominations. Major differences: a huge theater clearly set aside for its sole purpose, giant neon marquees, rows of concession booths (including a variety of beers), sit where you like, small audience, no intermission, and full credits at the end.
.
I preferred the Turkish experience.