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I’ve had a long and passionate love affair with the moving image. To this day, I’m a sucker for an engaging television show or an original movie idea. I love getting drawn into a fictional character’s world with the help of a talented actor. My eyes still glaze over in amazement at effective special effects. I still find myself cheering for the good guys to win. These things mean a lot to me. That’s why I was overjoyed to announce an official “movie night” at my house for the first time this week. Little did I know that my love of this media would cause the night to end in disaster.

I blame myself. My formative years were, in no small way, influenced by what I saw and heard on television. Cartoons taught me valuable lessons about the perils of being a bully. Sitcoms showed me that great timing and double-entendres were keys to the comedy kingdom. I learned from TV cops that the bad guys never win. These basic staples of popular culture were every bit as important as the four food groups when I was growing up.

Yet they were all eclipsed by the movies. Going to a theater for a showing of the latest Hollywood offering was a magical event for me. Even though my early experiences with theaters were in the 1980’s when the multiplex was steadily replacing large single-theater venues, I considered every seating a special occasion. My induction into perpetual cinema fandom was ushered in by such classics as “Raiders of the Lost Ark” and “The Empire Strikes Back.” Can you blame me for getting hooked?

When Video Cassette Recorders and cable television first became prominent, it was like someone had opened a portal between two worlds. For the first time, the magic I witnessed in a theater was available to me at home, albeit on a much smaller scale. The television could provide both the daily servings of pop culture that I’d grown accustomed to, and special events like “Ghostbusters.”

My father shared my passion. He would often fall asleep on the couch in front of the television. There was a time when he would have me rent two movies a day from the local video store until there were no more left to watch. We absorbed action, drama, foreign, comedy, even horror films.

So, as home theater technology matured, I followed it closely. My dream was to one day have my own “home theater” where I could recreate some of the childhood magic which now lived on as nostalgia in my memory.

My new home on the Jersey Shore brings me one step closer to realizing that dream. Though my living room isn’t quite a home theater, it serves my purposes; I can watch the television and movies I enjoy in the highest resolution available, with excellent surround sound.

Wanting to share that enjoyment with those around me, I sometimes forget that not everyone is as passionate about the movies as me. I announced that I was setting aside Monday nights for the purpose of screening movies for friends. To me, this was a chance to experience new films and relive the magic of classic ones we all loved. To others, it may have just been a chance to socialize.

I’m aware that moving pictures and sound are, for some people, just a way to fill the silence. They are background noise; an unimportant distraction which deserves only peripheral attention. These are the people who occupy themselves with texting, eating, or talking during a movie. They may see the story unfold before them, and fill in the details through inference, but they miss the magic. They don’t appreciate the details which make movies special.

(Feel free to skip this paragraph if you don’t want to read examples)In the original “Superman” movie, there’s a moment when Clark Kent is about to change into his iconic reds and blues. He pauses for a split second to look at a modern payphone without a phone booth surrounding it, and then speeds off to change elsewhere. His facial expression in that moment is both a joke and homage to the comic book origins of the hero. Yet it will usually be lost on those who don’t really devote all their attention to the movie. These people see Indiana Jones’ grand escape from the Nazis, but miss the little wink before it which tells us that hope is not lost. The subtleness is lost on them, so a truly great movie is “okay” or “pretty good” in their view.

To me, this attitude is tantamount to heresy because I’ve worked in the entertainment industry and know what it is to create something for people’s viewing. You want ever second, every nuance, to be appreciated. This is why theaters are dark; to eliminate every possible distraction. The subtle details in a movie are almost more important than the over-arching narrative. So it drives me nuts when I sit with people who I know are missing the bits and pieces which elevate a film to greatness.

Last night, the groups who attended my first official “movie night” decided to watch a movie from the 80’s which they all know and love; “The Princess Bride.” Their main reason for choosing this film was to share it with one friend who had never seen it before. Unfortunately, they also decided to make friendship bracelets (none for me, btw) while the movie was on. This, in addition to the snacks, drinks, and talking, diverted enough attention from the movie that the person watching it for the first time missed much of the dialog and seemed oblivious to the sight gags. Predictably, she said that she didn’t see what the big deal was, and I agreed. She didn’t see. She couldn’t see. She was busy with other things.

So in my book, I write the experience off as a disaster. Not because someone deems movies less important than I. Not, because they refused to adhere to my admittedly obsessive take on proper movie viewing etiquette. Not even because someone might have different tastes than I. It was a disaster because a wonderful, charming, funny, and well made film has been forever lost to this person. I know that she will never sit through it again, and I feel responsible for that. Our misguided attempt to show off something we enjoyed failed, because the movie never had a chance of making a good first impression under those circumstances.

In the future, maybe it’s best not to show “classics” but instead to focus on new films nobody has seen before. That way, expectations are lower. It might also help to invite people who love movies as much as me, so I don’t feel like the odd man out for my passion on the subject.