As a self-proclaimed movie lover, I had always been secretly ashamed of the fact that I had never been to one of those premium class theaters in some of Jakarta's cineplexes.

I'm talking about that mysterious door you always pass by on your way to the ticket counter. A door with a certain glow from inside that stands so arrogantly, as if proclaiming itself a portal to a better world. A world of spacious, reclining seats, blankets, your own personal waiters always ready at your bark, and altogether a supposedly enhanced movie-watching experience. The door that separates us mortal moviegoers – the ones with regular tickets – and the chosen ones.

Of course, to be "chosen", you have to pay at least 100,000 rupiahs.

Now, a lot of my cynical friends, including myself, have developed a smug sense of sarcasm toward these deluxe theaters. We take pride of not having been lured to try this so-called luxury. True moviegoers would not be robbed blind like this. Anyone who charges us 100 thousand to see a movie had better have the cast serving us drinks!

Besides, a truly unforgettable movie-watching experience only comes from two things: the film itself, and our emotion. Never the superficial surroundings. It's simply not worth it. Deluxe theaters are the original DVDs of cinemas!

However, we have to admit that we have been secretly waiting for a good reason to finally try these hyped-up luxury theaters. We're waiting for the right film, or for the right first date, or for the right depression that calls for overboard self-pampering. Anything that would allow us to satisfy our curiosity without having our friends smirk, "You got money to burn or something?"

A long-awaited, two-hour-plus film has always been a popular choice of reason (word has it that tickets were sold out during the Lord of the Rings seasons). My reason came a couple of years ago, when one of the premium theaters was screening Brokeback Mountain. The luxury that the screening offered went beyond the plush atmosphere. It was a special one because they only screened it one time, way ahead before the regular theaters were playing it, and just in time before the Academy Awards, where we were all high on the buzz surrounding the two gay cowboys.

A reason as perfect as this wouldn't come a second time, and I couldn't be more excited. That is, until I called to book the tickets and they were all sold out. Apparently, all other gay men and Oscar-junkies in Jakarta had beaten me to it.

I got bummed for several reasons. I would not get to watch the film before most Jakartans do, and I would not be able to root for it at the Oscars and actually know what I'm rooting for. But deep down, I guess what I was really bummed about is the fact that I had lost my one chance to sit on one of those spacious, reclining seats, hugging one of those blankets, and have all those personal waiters ready at my bark (so much for a true moviegoer, huh!)

This episode caused an ever growing bitterness in me toward this form of luxury over the following years. But not long ago, I finally decided that it was time to get it over with. I was done with waiting for the right reasons to dodge all kinds of judgment from my circle. I figured, it's my money, and if hundreds of thou is the price I have to pay to give my curious mind a little peace, then so be it.

So, I finally booked a ticket that would christen me to be one of the chosen ones, and I pushed the limit. I went for the most premium of them all, beyond reclining seats: the cinema with beds in it.

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Silver Screen
Turning Pages
Sound A Round
Dining