Hangin' out at Cinemark Theatres

At the Cinemark theater in Allen, the box office is a maroon prison, walled by glass so thick, it resembles plastic. Dirt, dust, and the remnants of ticket stubs and coin wrappers litter the floor. On a worn bar stool, Liam the cashier sits, gazing forward, trance-like, at two stone columns, four light posts, and more than a few trees.

Liam is in his late teens, wiry with short, curly hair. There's enough scruff on his chin to make you think "college," but the baby face makes you add "freshman" to it. Soft-spoken, he says just enough to move the transaction, but never fails to address someone as "Sir" or "Ma'am." The disheveled collar and lanyard suggests he was probably running late today.

Bring up any movies and the glazed eyes light up. His knowledge of film, both old and new, is rivaled only by his love of the art form.

A man, when asking about the discount, asks with a chuckle "Do I need my ID?" The cashier dismisses the question, a hint of annoyance on his face.

As the line builds, a manager walks in - a man in a black suit, red shirt, black tie - to give the cashier some relief. But he leaves when another manager - an older woman with a spotted shirt - takes over the register, leaving Liam to observe. The other register continues to be unmanned as the line of five turns into fifteen.

The woman leaves and the dual-chromatic manager returns. Once the line is empty, the mics turn off and the two men share a laugh. Is it at the expense of a customer? "The world may never know."

Many elderly, white people are coming to see Hillary's America: The Secret History of the Democratic Party. The manager asks me "Do you think if I switch this out with The Purge, people will notice?" When I shrug, both men burst out laughing.

A few minutes later, a little girl walks up with her mother. She interrupts the transaction with "There's a bird passed out in the parking lot. You should go bring him in the shade."

What else is a cashier to do but mutter a stunned, stammering "Okay"?

To my knowledge, the bird has yet to be picked up.

The sticky heat outside heavily contrasts with the air conditioning in the box, felt by patrons through the small slot in the window.

We get to talking about our thoughts about for the worst movies of the year. Despite it only being July, we have a fair crowd of contenders.

"[The worst would] have to be Independence Day: Resurgence," he says. "I'd probably list Free State of Jones too. I tried, but I was just so bored."

The day rolls on, and with it, boredom, but Liam keeps on going. Thankfully, all he needs is a good conversation and a good movie. He's probably in the right line of work.

"The Paper" - Frustration in Journalism

The Paper centers on the staff of The Daily Collegian, Penn State University's student newspaper, during a particularly trying year. The Collegian watches its circulation dwindle amidst lackluster stories, waning credibility, and difficulties with ethics in diversity.

It gets rough.

Weathering the storm is James Young, editor-in-chief.

Young addresses trouble from a place of frustration. As the boss, when the paper fails, he fails. Criticisms of the paper are taken more personally than they should.

The Black Caucus calls out the Collegian for a lack of racial sensitivity, proposing mandatory sensitivity training for all staff. Young dismisses this, believing that increased efforts from his reporters will work. He says this not out of prejudice (mostly), but out of insecurity and his abilities as an editor.

Collegian reporters also struggle to gain access to sources. For Jenny Vrentas, a sports reporter, the Sports Information Department is her gatekeeper. She's given the go-around while trying to snag a feature with football players, so she cuts the middleman and gets the interview herself. It's a move that garners outrage from the SID but also snags her a 3rd-place "Story of the Year" prize.

Should we approve of her actions? I refer to John Harvey, Collegian adviser, who describes Vrentas' relationship with the SID as a contract. If she doesn't benefit from it, she should opt out of. I commend her resolve.

I commend the resolve of all the staff. The furor they have for story-telling is inspiring. The film shies not from showcasing the job's hardships. At some points, the rewards aren't worth the efforts.

But journalism rips through red tape. It unmasks facade. It pisses people off. It does so to tell the stories that matter.

The saying goes "If it bleeds, it leads." The Paper proves "If you bleed, they'll read."