Tuesday, March 9th, 2021

“Please be patient. The technology has been sleeping for a year.” The woman at the front of the hall turns and looks at two men behind her. One turns knobs and pushes buttons. The other shrugs. I have gotten to the theatre early. I’m one of the first audience members. They haven’t quite sorted out the ritual of entering. I need to show them my Green Pass so they know that I’ve been vaccinated. Or maybe I don’t. There’s a disagreement over that. I do need to show my ticket, which is on my phone. They try to scan it a few times before it works. I have to wave my hand in front of the thermometer, which shouts “Normal temperature!” in English. Apparently there’s no volume control. And I have to show them my government ID. I finally get to sit down and watch workers fumble with the setup up front. A laptop is playing videos via VLC on the big screen, but there’s no sound. Eventually someone changes a setting, then changes it back to how it was. The sound returns. I count 24 people in the hall. The maximum, when seats aren’t blocked off, is 158. The food counter is closed. I doubt that they’re making any money tonight, even with tickets priced at fifty percent more than they were when the theatre was last open a year ago, but it’s a test. About fifteen minutes after the start time, a man without a mask picks up a microphone and talks to us. He’s a local DJ and author. I understand about half of what he’s saying. He seems to be going on for a long time, but he’s enthusiastic and most of the audience enjoys it. I keep watching the computer clock on the screen. I wouldn’t feel time passing so keenly if it weren’t there. After half an hour, he thanks us and puts down the mic. People applaud. The lights go down. The movie finally begins.