"What is it they're showing, this Saturday night on E.B.S.?  And on Sunday afternoon?"  I wonder if ours is the only home in which such questions are ever heard, anyomore.  I wonder if anyone else cares at all about what "they" are playing, on E.B.S. or on any other channel where, once or twice a week, a place is still held -- in the midst of the usual broadcast of familiar serial drama, comedy, news and other documentary reports and investigations -- for "The Late Show" or "The Sunday Movie", a special presentation that must be special to almost no-one, these days, since almost everyone on the planet can now watch almost anything he/she wants to watch, at any time.
     This practical part of the relationship between most people and art has changed; we live in a world where access is free -- and yet I remain as I always have been, still dependent on decisions made by these few enduring institutions that survive from earilier times.  And I wonder what holds me back.
     Maybe I'm afraid of these new systems through which movies are made, distributed, presented and viewed, since they ask me to abandon what I know and to become familiar with operations that strike me as contrary and difficult.
     I may also be scared by the removal of the old limits, whose absence demands personal choice.  Years ago, our responsiblity was minimal, as our options were few; even at the old video stores (which most of you should be able to remember, if you concentrate), the number of titles for rent was a mere fraction of a fraction of what is now available to anyone with a computer -- and otherwise, there were only theaters, where even now we can settle on a film as easily as we order dinner from a menu (and where there was often not more than a single film to be considered, even as late as the early nineties, when I was in high school).  Before watching any movie these days, though, I have first to decide against almost every other film that's ever been made and sent out to be seen, as there is now very little to which we do not have access -- and that decision is heavy.
     As I raise these suggestions in my mind, though, in my attempt to find the real cause of my hesitation, I find so little response from my conscience that I am able to drop the inquiry, quite sure of my innocence.  Sure, I may be moved in part by a natural preference for what is known to and easy for me, but I don't find in myself any strong emotional opposition to recent or current changes -- or any serious grief over the passing of the old situation -- that might indicate a problematic resistance, based on foundations that should themselves be allowed to crumble.  I don't live in dread of the future, and I even admire those who are brave enough and strong enough to move with the times, to be active along these new lines and to enjoy all that is now within the reach of anyone who would take it.
      Without suspicions, then, I am able to continue crawling forward at my own pace, bothered neither by my neighbors' devices nor by my own failure to use those devices.  I can accept my tendency to accept whatever E.B.S. offers us, this week-end, or whatever the local movie house is showing -- or else to just read a book, take a walk or go to bed early, should none of the features appeal to me.

     However, my intention here was to write on a more interesting phenomenon; instead of any ridiculous investigation of the real interests that might have held me behind the rest of the world, this was going to be an informative piece about the presentation of movies on E.B.S., itself, and an appreciation of one of last week-end's features, in particular.  Having gone on and composed these rather extensive paragraphs, though, I'm ready to close this post and save those other points for next time.