Right, let us talk about the Michael Jackson movie heading to AMC in 2026, because apparently the entire planet has collectively decided that the only acceptable way to spend an evening is sitting in the dark watching a two-hour tribute to the man who invented walking backwards very confidently. It is the sort of release that turns normally sensible adults into people who refresh a booking page eleven times before breakfast, muttering about aisle seats and whether the recliners in row F are worth the extra few quid. Spoiler: they are, and you will still complain about the price of a drink.
Booking a ticket for this one requires the strategic mind of a chess grandmaster and the patience of someone stuck behind a learner driver on a roundabout. The decent showings vanish faster than a plate of chips at a wedding, and what remains is a 10.40pm screening in screen nine, which is essentially a cupboard with a projector. Arrive early, claim your spot, and resist the urge to sit directly behind the tallest person in the building. You will lose that battle. You always lose that battle.
Nothing unites and divides a British cinema audience quite like the snack queue. Half of it is people buying a small popcorn and looking guilty, and the other half is a family ordering enough nachos to build a small bungalow. Add a queue for the loos that snakes past the poster of the very film you are about to watch, and you have yourself a proper night out. My advice: eat before you go, then smuggle in nothing, because you will be searched by a teenager with a torch and a sense of duty.
Expect the whole jukebox, expect the glove, expect at least one sequence where somebody spins and the camera does that slow, admiring circle around them. Expect a running time that makes you realise your bladder has been negotiating with you since the trailers. Expect the person two rows down to hum along and be immediately shushed by three separate strangers, because we are a polite nation right up until somebody ruins the quiet bits.
Is it worth the trip? For the spectacle, the sound, and the shared gasp when the first familiar bassline drops, absolutely. Just book early, pick your seat like it is a mortgage decision, and accept that you will be humming something for a fortnight afterwards. Take the big screen, take the loud speakers, and leave your dignity at the popcorn counter where it belongs.