Having a medical practitioner mother and immunocompromised father meant early pandemic paranoia ran rampant in my household. 

Fortunately, my dark days in fearful isolation were brightened with streaming services such as Disney+, Amazon Prime, and Netflix. While lengthy debates between friends in person were things of the past, a thrilling theory-crafting session after every new episode of “WandaVision” was only a phone call away. 

When movie theaters became desolate wastelands, streaming services hit their stride. Many film companies made the best of a bad situation with early releases on streaming services. Disney+ especially exploited this with direct-to-digital films such as “Mulan” and “Trolls: World Tour.” 

Home theaters trended on TikTok, and people relished the ability to watch anticipated feature films while eating breakfast in bed.

In early 2021, many movie theaters reopened for the vaccinated public. For me and the rest of my apprehensive family, these places were still disease-infested deathtraps; I thought I’d never go back. But the longer I held out, the more aggressively the theaters called to me. 

The temptations started when a dear friend of mine excitedly told me (or maybe screamed at me) about his experience watching “Fast and Furious 9” in theaters. “They go to space! How? They drove a car there!” My curiosity piqued, the following few days were agonizing. Day after day, my friends would talk about how much they enjoyed laughing at the over-the-top absurdity of Dom Torreto’s latest adventure. 

But I constantly reassured myself that, for the sake of my own health and my family’s well being, I would hold out. I took pride in my resilience when it came to social pressures, and I knew any entertainment I received from the film could never justify the risks.

In less than a week, I caved. I had to do it.

Standing in front of the massive colosseum I had once visited monthly was a jarring experience. The AMC theater was an imperfect time-capsule of bustling pre-pandemic life. The building felt like an uncanny replica of an era long forgotten. The floors were just a smidge stickier, and the chairs were the slightest bit more lumpy, but what was most irritating was my heightened awareness of the theater’s poor sanitation. 

Even with COVID-19 restrictions limiting their capacity, AMC theaters can reach over two hundred people per auditorium. In my theater, in particular, there were about eighty or so people settling in to watch the film, along with me and the one friend I managed to drag along. With everyone sipping their sodas and shoveling popcorn in their mouth, every mask in the room was either hanging from an ear, stretched under a chin, or crumpled up in a pocket.  

The two hour and twenty-five minute runtime pushed my anxiety to its limits. The high-speed action of the racing movie slowed to a crawl from my seat, but I was just as exhausted as the racers by the end of the movie.

My fears didn’t end when I left the theater. Having the slightest bit of a headache or a dry throat spiraled my mind into devastating hypotheticals where I infected my family, friends, and an unknowable amount of innocent strangers with the deadly virus. I needed two weeks of renewed isolation to calm my nerves. I was confident I’d never go back to a movie theater again. 

That is, until Marvel’s “Shang-Chi” released exclusively in theaters.

“Shang-Chi: Legend of the Ten Rings” was a massive box office success, grossing the most of any film since the start of the pandemic. But with a two-month gap between the theatrical release and a premiere access release on Disney+, I was locked out of participating in film media’s latest wave. Where “Fast and Furious 9” intrigued me, “Shang Chi” taunted and mocked me with its inaccessibility for those playing it safe like me. Between friends pestering and begging me to accompany them and college classes devolving into debates on the movie’s quality, there was no escaping Marvel’s latest blockbuster.

After a month of frustration, I caved once again.

Fortunately, as the movie was reaching the end of its theater lifecycle, theaters weren’t likely to be nearly as overcrowded, but I wanted to be extra careful. Along with two of my friends, we picked out and met up at a small local indie theater called The Broad Theater. I was exceptionally happy to find all of my worries were unwarranted. Whereas the number of butts in seats reached the latter end of double digits in the AMC theater, I could count the number of people in The Broad’s auditorium on one hand. One couple sat close to the front of the theater, barely noticeable by our group of three seated along the back row. Another small group hugged the right wall of the theater, forming the point of a perfect equilateral triangle between the three of us.

The experience was wonderful. Instead of nervously jittering in an unsanitary leather seat barely six feet away from a coughing mother and her two germball spawn, I was hooked in by the impressive fighting choreography and the jaw-dropping visualizations of Chinese mythology on screen.

I’d never say someone should make a habit of seeing movies only in theaters. However, for those that absolutely must see upcoming blockbusters and want to support smaller businesses, local spots like The Broad Theater are the perfect place to safely experience a film with your friends.