Snag an adult beverage. Get horizontal in leather-upholstered seats. Snuggle up under the blanket. Prop your head on the pillow. When the waiter comes by, order gourmet tuna steaks or preppy mini-pizzas. Oh, and, maybe, watch a movie.
No, it’s not a first-class international flight … it’s an iPic Theatre.
iPic is a chain that’s taking the “It’s not enough to just see a movie” concept about as far as it can go. You enter through the Salt bar — which the promotional video positions as a glitzy, manic pick-up joint packed with wealthy forty-somethings leering at each other over custom cocktails. When we went to see After Earth on Saturday morning at 11:00 a.m., the joint was completely deserted and a little creepy, with only one or two employees loitering in the purple twilight.
The concession stand confused us: nothing seemed to be on sale, and no one was behind the counter. Finally, we gave up and made our way back to the theatre itself, where we’d bought tickets for two reclining seats upholstered in bright orange faux leather. In addition to a pivoting presswood table attached to the arm rest, each seat also came with a synthetic blanket and a travel pillow. (If you really like these, you can buy a pillow and blanket combo for forty bucks.)
While we waited for the movie to begin, we watched a droning, overly-enthusiastic ad for iPic’s food and beverage service on the big screen. Eventually, a waiter appeared, handing us a small-print menu and offering to take drink orders. Given the hour, we declined the offer of fine wine or craft beer; later, we also declined the offer of tuna steak or a fried appetizer. (A small bowl of popcorn is included with your $27.00 seat … which can be had for $17.00 if you hand over your personal info, address, phone number, and email address and “join” iPic.)
In the end, the iPic experience suffers from the same issue we’ve seen at similar theatres all over the planet. First, portions are small, and prices are high for unremarkable food. Second, once the lights go down, struggling with a knife and fork (or even dipping savory appetizers in sauce) feels more than a little awkward. The little pivoting table, especially once you’ve reclined, is just out of arm’s reach, making it less efficient than the standard theatre cupholder. And when the waiter checks back with you (as ours did three times during the movie, once waking Clyde up from a sound sleep), he interrupts the movie and disturbs the folks around you.
iPic Theatres want to be an entertainment destination — a place where childless forty-somethings can mix and mingle over drinks before scarfing down dinner while, incidentally, a movie plays in the background. And the formula works for some people, I guess — including folks like Wil Wheaton, who won’t see a movie anywhere else.
In the end, though, the iPic isn’t for me. For great drinks, I’ll go to a great bar. For great food, I’ll go to a great restaurant, thanks. And for a great movie, I’d rather go to a theatre that’s obsessed with comfort, a great picture, and great sound (like, say, the AMC Theatres at Phipps Plaza, here in Atlanta) instead of a place that’s trying to sell me liquor and gussied-up gourmet fare.
Have you tried any of the Studio Movie Grill locations here in the Atlanta suburbs? It’s like iPic but not so snooty. It’s nice without being as pretentious as you describe.