A couple of weeks ago, there was a story ping-ponging its way around the Web that went something like this: Paramount had cut a deal with the major cable providers to launch their tentpole Transformers on television the same week it landed in theaters. The idea was that it would be available as a premium pay per view choice for somewhere in the neighborhood of $40 and assuming the experiment turned out to be a rousing success -- and it would have -- the vaunted 'window' would be good and smashed for all time. There were some outlets that were convinced the story was going to turn out to be true, but my Paramount contacts told me it was complete crap, and they were right -- no such plans were afoot, obviously. The interesting thing about all of this is that most of the people I talked to who believed the story was going to turn out to be true were not outraged by it in the least -- and neither was I. I've come to believe that 'smashing the window' is an idea whose time has truly come, mainly because of the ever-deteriorating movie theater experience.

Take it from someone who chose his first apartment based on its proximity to two movie theaters -- this is not a stance I take lightly. I don't think there's anything in the world that beats a really good experience at the movies, but I've also noticed that over the past few years, the onus has been more and more on me to make that experience happen. Going to the movies on Friday night became a non-starter a long time ago, since it's kind of hard for me to follow a film when the guy to my right is breaking up with his girlfriend via cellphone and the guy to my left is playing his portable video game at full volume through the second and third acts. The matinees used to provide an escape from that kind of behavior, but no more. Last week I ended up walking out of an early show of Knocked Up because, honest to God, I couldn't follow what was going on thanks to the non-stop jabbering of a gang of high-school girls in front of me.

Rude, oblivious people -- and worse kinds -- have always been there, obviously. One of my earliest movie-going memories is being taken to see Tim Burton's Batman on opening night in Myrtle Beach. Fifteen minutes in, full sodas were being launched at Jack Nicholson's head. The hooligans ended up being exited by their shoelaces, and the management apologized profusely. And yes, I'm sure that any theater manager worth their salt would act the same way today in similar circumstances, but it would pretty much have to come to that before they did anything about behavior. Theaters have mentally checked out of the business of making sure you have a comfortable viewing experience, and in doing so, they're contributing to their own demise. I'd like to say that art house cinemas are a world apart from the cineplex in that regard, but in my experience, you just encounter a different kind of weirdness. I attended a festival recently at a Manhattan art house, and found myself repeatedly sitting near a bizarre, Max Cady-like figure who alternated between laughing at unfunny sections of the films and talking back to the screen.

People like me, who are eager to be the movie theater's best customers, now pay to see movies in a theater only in unusual circumstances. If there's something I'm itching to see, I'm almost certainly going to see it in a critic's screening at least a few weeks before the public does. The press screening room has become sort of the last bastion of enforced quiet and decorum. You walk in, nod politely to the press person who knows you, or in some cases, point out your name on their little sheet, then sit down in the clean, comfortable room and get completely immersed in the film. It's the best. And if it turns out I really like the movie, and I want to see it again and again after the first time, chances are I'll just wait a couple of months and then pre-order the DVD, like I did with Marie Antoinette and Casino Royale, two movies I really enjoyed last fall. It's true that watching those films on a small television is nothing compared to seeing them on the big screen, but I've come around to thinking that if I just save up for a huge television with ear-splitting speakers, I'll have what amounts to a fair trade-off. And the more people who come around to that way of thinking, the cheaper and more sophisticated the home theater experience will become.

I've read a lot of stuff about how movie chains over-built in the 90s and are in for a severe downsizing at some point down the road -- a topic I'm in no way qualified to comment on -- but I won't really bat an eye if and when that happens. Maybe it's because I'm getting a little older, but I just have no more patience for the unruly crowds, the cell phone abusers, the thirteen hours of ads I have to watch before the movie starts, the fact that a ten dollar bill no longer guarantees me a small popcorn and drink, and so forth. I don't need to see the movie on a big screen that bad. At the same time, I also have no interest in watching a movie on a Dick Tracy watch or any other device that can fit in my pocket -- that's the other extreme, that's also unwelcome. But a quality home entertainment center with a great screen and great sound? That's where it's increasingly at, I think. And when the local art house decides to show a George Stevens film or Barry Lyndon or something else that's nearly inseparable from the 'big screen experience', just give me a call and I'll show up. Otherwise, I'll be at home. Let the window be smashed. In fact, give me the hammer.