I was going to write this really clever post about the Angelika’s plan to screen the Super Bowl on Sunday, but I never heard back from the woman at the theater who was in charge of the program. No doubt she had learned of my rapier-like wit and knew better than to cross swords with me.
Still, it does seem odd that an art house will show the Super Bowl. I thought an art house was where those of us who didn’t care about the Super Bowl went to spend our Sunday afternoon when the rest of the country was discussing commercials, eating nachos and doing whatever else people do when they watch the Super Bowl. (And before I hear about how un-American I am because I don’t care about the Super Bowl, please note that I spent 15 years as a sportswriter, which cured me of any affinity for athletics.)
Intriguingly, and I’m not even going to try and figure out what this means, the Angelika in Manhattan is not showing the Super Bowl.
