MORE MOVIEGOERS LOBBYING FOR THE STAR TREATMENT

Down with people who talk during movies!

A pox on movie houses with sticky floors and fake butter!

Out with bouffant hairdos and whining babies!

Wow! When you ask people to list the things that bug them about going to the movies these days, you get a list!

Rude patrons. Rowdy teen-agers. Cigarette sneaks. Noisy food. Bad projection. Lousy sound. High prices and long lines.

No wonder more and more people are staying home and watching rented movies on their VCRs. (When you hear voices there, at least you recognize them, and you know what you’re putting on your popcorn.)

But beatings? Evictions? Annihilation? One person wrote in suggesting that anyone caught discussing plot points during a movie be whisked into an adjacent room and forced to watch John Travolta’s “Staying Alive.”

Fortunately, this country still has laws about cruel and unusual punishment.

To recap: The theme of the recent ShoWest convention of movie exhibitors in Las Vegas was “If I were an exhibitor . . . Seeing ourselves as others see us.” The invited guests included film critics, producers, studio distribution heads and other industry experts, and the exhibitors got a fair bit of the lashing they asked for.

But they didn’t get the lashing many of them deserved. For that, they needed to hear from authentic moviegoers--the paying victims of bad theater operation--and none of them was invited.

So, Film Clips pitched in with a few consumer suggestions (annihilation of talkers was item No. 2 on our list, right behind a ban on nachos) and then asked for suggestions from you. The mail is still coming in.

Some suggestions weren’t too practical.

The idea of installing speakers and TV monitors in restrooms seems counterproductive to good viewing habits, and mandatory catheterization of patrons who order jumbo soft drinks has legal problems.

Selling only noiseless food at the snack bar has an immediate appeal, until you consider the possibilities. Mashed potatoes? Candied yams?

And fenced dog runs along the sides for restless preteens would just add to the commotion they would be intended to ease.

Several people seized the opportunity to complain about the promotional spots for The Times that they see in theaters. As Brian Crosby of La Crescenta good-naturedly put it: “The most disturbing and frustrating movie experience in recent years has been the influx of the Los Angeles Times commercials in movie houses, after putting down $6 admission. I dare you to print that.”

Actually, the influx isn’t recent. According to Times public relations director JoEllen Kitchen, The Times has had a trade-out deal with theaters for more than 20 years. Under the arrangement, she said, theaters receive a discount advertising rate for their daily movie listings in exchange for running the paper’s 30-second commercial before each program.

From an overall reading of the letters, the No. 1 complaint from moviegoers was the rude behavior of other moviegoers and the reluctance of theater managers to do anything about it. The first thing most people said they would do if they had a theater is hire giants to patrol the aisles and occasionally crack a few ribs. These bouncers would also be armed with usher’s flashlights to help find vacant seats for latecomers. (Some of us remember such a service from our childhood.)

Most of the suggestions, however, were legal and reasonable. They would cost money and take careful administration, but if theaters are going to survive the VCR, they have to make moviegoing an event again.

As Penny Harrell of Laguna Niguel said, “With VCRs now, the only reason to go out to a movie . . . is to be pampered and made to feel special.”

Incorporating the best of the suggestions made, here is the Times Readers’ Perfect World Cinema. It is a multiplex (no sense trying to dream that concept away; it’s forever), but it’s designed so that each theater absorbs its own sound.

At least one of the theaters is equipped for 70-millimeter projection and Dolby surround sound. (Eventually, the film companies may start shooting movies on 70-millimeter, instead of the current process of doubling the 35-millimeter negatives in the lab.) Tickets to the 70-millimeter theater cost $1 to $2 more than the others, but the projection is first-rate, so we pay it gladly.

There are other premiums. Certain sections of the theaters are made available, at a slightly higher price, for advance-sale reserved seating. For crowded shows, the lousy seats that exist in the best theaters--the first three rows, the front side sections--are sold at half the normal ticket price.

On weekends you can buy a day pass to the complex, for a friendly price, and see as many of the movies playing there as you like. Senior citizens with Perfect World cards get 50% discounts to all shows except those on weekend evenings.

The ratings are enforced here, so there will be no preteens tittering in the audience during “Lady Chatterley Does Dallas.” For responsible parents, theaters provide short, written explanations of the content that earned a certain movie its rating.

Sorry, babes in arms are not allowed, but there is a supervised toddler room. Call ahead to reserve space there, too.

The waiting area outside the theater is sheltered and lighted. Attendants hand out credit sheets for the movie we’re about to see, along with cast and production notes. Vendors pass among us with coffee and soft drinks. The outside speakers are playing movie sound tracks.

Inside, the concession stands have a variety of non-junk foods, including whole juices, to go with the traditional junk. (This is the biggest fantasy of all; the syrup-based soft drink is the theater’s greatest source of income.) The popcorn is freshly popped, the butter is real, the salt does not pour from the shakers like water from Niagara.

To speed concession transactions, and to not drive patrons crazy with overt penny-ante gouging, the owners of Perfect World include the tax in their nicely rounded prices.

The lobby speakers, like those outside, are playing sound tracks. There are no clanging arcade games in the lobby. When Perfect World took over this complex, it threw the games out and now uses the space for additional concessions.

The streamlined concession operation is vital because at Perfect World, no one is allowed inside the auditorium after the lights have gone down. Concessions are not sold during the program. (That breeze you just felt was caused by hundreds of exhibitors who just shuddered at the thought.)

Your seats are terrific. They’re wide, comfortable. There’s leg room in front of you, and the floor is pitched downward on a severe enough angle for you to see over everyone but Kareem Abdul Jabbar.

You are able to store your drink in the slot provided in your armrest (such chairs already are manufactured and available) and the armrest is wide enough to avert Elbow Wars between strangers in the dark.

The feature is preceded by a calm reminder that people who disturb others during the show will be asked to leave, and by a series of coming attractions and short subjects.

The trailers aren’t just for movies being shown in the same complex. Perfect World understands that there are good and bad trailers, just as there are good and bad movies, so they show the best trailers available. Even those for movies booked by competitors. (The poor slugs can use the help.)

There will be no commercials. The quality of exhibition at Perfect World has made it so successful that it’s able to prosper without renting screen time.

“In a Perfect World, patrons come first” is the theater’s cheerful slogan.

What a novel idea.

Dozens of Times readers contributed to this story.