I went to a drive-in movie recently. The last time I went to a drive-in movie was, I think, in 1970, when my parents brought my twin brother John and me to see a double feature of Doris Day in With Six You Get Eggroll (1968) and The Boatniks (1970), and there were two Disney cartoons: Tiger Trouble (1945) with Goofy, and Donald’s Ostrich (1937) with Donald Duck. We fell asleep sometime during the second feature. But we were wearing our pajamas, so that was okay.

To relive the experience 47 years later, we drove to Mansfield, Connecticut, and the Mansfield Drive-In, which has three screens, with double features playing on each. Our double feature was War for the Planet of the Apes (2017) and Wonder Woman (2017). We didn’t finish the second movie as it was getting into the wee hours and we had an hour drive home. By that time, I confess, I was a little weary of violence and simplistic characters that would entertain a child or someone with the mind of one. I’m a classic movie buff. Not that I don’t applaud Wonder Woman’s getting her due on the big screen — hurray for the girls — but she’s still no match for Tracy Lord, Stella Dallas, Ilsa Lund, or Mildred Pierce, if you get my drift. Margo Channing would have chewed her up and spit her out. Heck, so would Birdie.

My, but I would love to see some classic films at a drive-in.

As for the apes, I noticed that though the makeup and CGI combined had made the ape creatures incredibly realistic compared to the original Planet of the Apes (1968) series, the script was inferior when it came to dialogue or any kind of message, or indeed, any kind of point at all.

What I found totally unexpected and quite charming about the drive-in was the pre-movie 1950s and 1960s music on the FM frequency we were to hear the sound from – no more speakers on your car door (we brought our own portable radio so as not to drain the car battery) – and also the classic TV commercials that reminded us of an era when drive-ins could be found pretty much anywhere. There are no more drive-in theaters in my area – the closest are the one in Mansfield, Connecticut, and another in New Hampshire — but back in the day there was one in my town and several more within a radius of only five miles. They are all shopping plazas now.

Next on the screen, another totally unexpected delight, was the classic “Let’s all go to the lobby…” promo cartoon. The audience in their cars, and lawn chairs, erupted in cheers and applause. It was not for the quality of the grainy 70-year-old cartoon urging us to go to the refreshment stand “and have ourselves a treat” that they applauded. It was for the memory of simpler joys and being too young then to really appreciate them.

I did see a little girl in her jammies, and that was cute. I remembered those days, and having to be carried into the house by my father when we got home because I had fallen asleep in the back seat. But I also saw a grown woman in pajama bottoms. Well, I’ve seen people wearing them at the post office, too, so I don’t know if she expected to fall asleep or that was just what was in her closet.

Between the two features, we got another ten-minute burst of a “Let’s all go to the lobby….” intermission with a cartoon family who gobbled refreshment stand goodies like goats eating the lawn, and large hot dogs and cups of soda coming to life and dancing for us. It would have been surreal, except that it was so comfortingly familiar and innocent. It was the kind of stupidity that didn’t make one angry; it made one smile.

Interesting that nobody clapped for the science fiction characters in the action movies; the audience applauded the dancing popcorn and the voracious cartoon family that could not get enough treats.

I enjoyed the rest of the ambience: A black sky full of brilliant stars. The Big Dipper hung just over the top of the screen. The summer night air was heavy with scents from the woods nearby and freshly cut fields, and maybe bug spray.

We left before we got too tired because if we had fallen asleep, nobody was going to carry us into the house.

Jacqueline T. Lynch is the author of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star., and several other non-fiction books on history and classic film criticism, as well as novels. www.JacquelineTLynch.com.

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